Shades of Gray
by randomwriting
Summary: Clarity is sometimes found by sifting through the gray. SC
1. Revelation

Shades of Gray

Disclaimer: CBS, creators, producers, etc., own all recognizable characters, not me; I'm simply borrowing them. Anyone you don't recognize belongs to me.

A/N: The prequel to this story is: Inexplicable

Shades of Gray

Revelation

Perched atop his bike, Tim took a moment to survey his surroundings before dismounting. It never failed, every strip mall that dotted the outskirts of the city looked exactly the same, and this one, populated with the usual occupants, was no different. There was nothing in particular he was looking for, but his sharp observational skills, honed over time at countless crime scenes, provided a necessary diversion. An opportunity to fix his focus on something concrete was exactly what he needed right now. It didn't matter that he was merely delaying the inevitable. He needed the time to gather his wits, and if that meant putting off for a few more moments, what he'd been putting off for months, so be it.

The nondescript office directly in front of him held his attention. A large planter positioned by the door, and undoubtedly placed there to offer a cheerful welcome to all who entered was filled with an assortment of colorful blooms. From where he sat, it was all that distinguished this office front from any of the others that lined this particular strip. Its occupant was identified in neat, hand painted script on the outside of the lone picture window. Tightly closed drapes effectively kept prying eyes from seeing within, and automatically heightened his instinctive distrust by doing so.

Unable to avert his eyes, he swept his gaze across the expanse of glass. **Resolutions and Divorce Mediation** was boldly lettered in black, with "**_we specialize in peaceful conflict resolution" _**positioned underneath in smaller script. Squinting, he noticed the sun reflecting off a small brass sign to the side of the door. He supposed the name Cheryl Remington was engraved in the metal. Something about that peaceful conflict claim, its arrogance perhaps, along with the planter of perky, colorful blooms and the shiny plaque turned his stomach. Or maybe the knowledge that he should be sitting in an uncomfortable chair inside that very place while he peacefully dissolved his own floundering marriage was what was turning his stomach.

Turning his scrutiny elsewhere, he was surprised to see so few cars and no foot traffic at this end of the lot, especially since it was early afternoon, but maybe the services offered by these particular businesses: divorce mediation, credit counseling and a travel agency that looked like it had seen better days, didn't get the volume of traffic the ones at the other end did. He focused his attention on the lone vehicle parked beside him. Close enough to peer inside, he'd managed to keep some distance between them, as if that was some unwritten rule they had agreed upon. Close, but not too close, and isn't that what led them here in the first place?

The model, chosen specifically for its safety record was gleaming in the mid-day sun. Peering inside, he felt the immediate, familiar tug upon spying the car seat in the back. And that was all he needed to get his body in motion. Hoisting himself off the bike, he strode determinedly forward. In a sleepwalking daze for far too long, there was nothing dazed about him now, not when his own passiveness had cost him the best part of his life. Whether or not there was still time to salvage the mess he'd made wasn't going to be determined from this side of the door. He had no choice but to walk inside, no matter how much it turned his stomach to do so.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?" the overly friendly receptionist asked him as he shuffled into the empty waiting area.

"My wife is here," Tim told her, mindful of the fact that when he last checked his watch he was officially forty-two minutes late for this appointment his wife had arranged a month ago. Judging by the lack of cars in the lot and bodies in the seats, he was surprised it took a month to get in to see this 'peaceful conflict resolution' specialist. Of course, never was soon enough for him, making him question for the umpteenth time why he ever agreed to this solution in the first place. But they'd be traveling down that road soon enough, right now he had to get past this receptionist.

"Oh, I see," she said eyeing him with displeasure. Gone was the friendly grin and voice full of hospitality. "Do you realize that your appointment time has passed?" she asked in an icy tone. "Mrs. Speedle arrived at the appointed hour. Are you aware that she has tried calling you several times?"

"May I just see my wife… please," Tim asked, over emphasizing that last word and trying his hardest to remain cool despite his growing irritation. He'd have enough to deal with when he met Calleigh's fury head on, he didn't need it from this stranger.

"Certainly. Follow me," she said, with the smile plastered back on her face. She'd probably already correctly deduced that Tim was about to get an earful. He followed obediently as she knocked on the closed door and announced his arrival.

The petite blonde rose stiffly from her seat to her full 5'2 facing him as he entered. There was no question she was angry, her eyes were blazing and her mouth was set in a thin, tight line, but he knew her well enough to know she would do everything in her power to maintain absolute control. Nervously, he cleared his throat before addressing her, but she beat him to it. "Tim, where have you been? Do you know how many times I've tried to call you? Is your phone even on?" she fired at him in a coolly impersonal voice.

"Yeah, I do," he said sighing deeply. "And I'm really sorry. I should've called you. I realize that. My phone was off. I'm sorry," he said shrugging, realizing the futility of his words. "Cal, I need to talk to you. Alone." he added in a low voice, cognizant of the fact that they weren't alone.

"We had an appointment. You knew what time you were supposed to be here and how important this was," she said with an almost imperceptible tremor in her voice. He nodded, swallowing hard. Her anger he fully expected and could handle, but her upset made a quivering mess of his insides.

"I know," he said dropping his eyes.

"Well, Tim, Calleigh is correct, this was an important meeting. It sets the tone for how all future proceedings will transpire. Our time today is almost up, I'm afraid." The sound of his first name being used so familiarly by a complete stranger rankled him. Casting a sideways glance in her direction, he met the sharp and assessing eyes of Cheryl Remington. Studying her with a mixture of unease and suspicion, he quickly noted her neat, prim appearance, along with the congenial smile plastered on her face, despite the disapproval he was reading in her eyes. _What is it with these people and their forced, artificial cheerfulness? Do they not realize what they do for a living? _"Perhaps we can spend our last few minutes discussing how this behavior affects our ultimate goal. That is, Tim, if you're willing to cooperate and participate now that you're here." There she was again addressing him by name, only this time he couldn't help but hear the condescendence in her voice.

"I don't think so," he said as he shot her a look of contempt, before he turned his attention back to his wife. "Calleigh, please, can we talk?" he asked, although to his ears it sounded more pleading than anything else. She studied him carefully and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. The walls were closing in on him and the need to flee the small, windowless room was powerful. The sense of purpose that had guided him through the doors in the first place was all that was keeping him where he was. Swallowing hard, he raked his hands through his hair, uneasy in the silence of her intense gaze. Having an audience multiplied his discomfort by a hundredfold.

"Fine," she said without emotion. He nodded, and dropped his head, breathing deeply, his relief palpable. "Cheryl, I'm sorry this didn't work out today as we planned. And I'm sorry that your time was not put to better use," Calleigh said, turning her attention from him. Glancing up, he could see the tension marring her delicate features. This only added to the guilt load he already carried. "Could my husband and I possibly have a moment alone?" she asked in her best authoritative voice.

"If that's what you think is best," Cheryl answered, not masking her doubt. "I'll close the door on my way out."

He waited until Cheryl closed the door behind her before speaking. "I'm sorry. I know I owe you an explanation," he said, walking closer to the table.

She took a step backwards, threw her shoulders back, crossed her arms in front of her chest and eyed him critically. "I'm listening," she said sharply. "And maybe you can start with why you were this inconsiderate and irresponsible today, because I happen to know for fact that you were not at work."

"I was with Ali," he began by way of explanation. At the sound of her daughter's name, a flash of panic crossed her eyes. Her instant and uncontrolled reaction was one he recognized and understood as only he could. Automatically, he reached for her arm, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Everything's okay. She's fine," he emphasized, catching her eyes. "I just wanted to see her. I didn't get to see her yesterday and I had some time this afternoon. I had some new books for her."

"Then, you didn't get a call, this was just a visit?" He nodded. "And it couldn't wait until after we were done here?" she asked, seemingly confused and, if he had to guess, more than a little annoyed now that her moment of worry had passed.

"No, it couldn't," he said firmly. "I wanted to see her. I didn't plan on missing this meeting, but when I got there she wasn't very interested in going down for her nap, so we read some books together. Maybe I just wanted to forget about this meeting for a little while. Obviously, I lost track of the time."

"Obviously," she said, giving back his sarcasm.

"I put her down and waited till she fell asleep, which she wasn't in any hurry to do," he shrugged.

"Not when she's happy to see you and you bring her new books," she sighed. "Tim, I just don't understand. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to prepare for this meeting? Not to mention, rescheduling work, making sure Ali was fine with the sitter, all just to sit here with absolutely no idea if or when you were going to show up or why…"

"I can't do this Calleigh. I should've said something before now…" he interrupted.

"What?" she broke in.

"I can't go through with this," he said, breathing deeply when the words were finally out.

"I don't understand," she said, holding her hand up. "What do you mean you can't go through with this? The mediation? We agreed this was the way to proceed. Are you saying you want a lawyer?" she asked as her voice rose an octave.

"No, no, not that." he said, shaking his head. "I mean any of this. I don't want this divorce." Restless, he shuffled his feet, walked to the chair, but stepped back from it, changing his mind about sitting.

"You're telling me this _now_?" she asked, incredulous. His eyes were on her moving hands while she spoke. He focused on the gold band she still wore. It was easier than watching the painful display of emotions visible in her eyes. "And what, this was something you arrived at _on the ride over_? Tim, you can't possibly be serious, can you? I mean, even for you this is too much. Why would you do something like this? How am I supposed to respond? Did you consider me even _once_ in your last minute decision making?" There was no attempt made to disguise her hurt and bewilderment, and knowing he was the cause cut him deeply.

"No," he sighed feeling beleaguered. "This isn't something I arrived at on the ride over, as you so put it. And yes, believe it or not, I did consider your feelings in all this. Maybe, I just hoped you'd be willing to talk about this some more instead of rushing to divorce. I wanted to talk to you before today. I realize I didn't pick the best time, but lately, you haven't exactly been receptive to me. Avoiding me is more like it. Probably not the ideal condition for this kind of a discussion, wouldn't you agree?"

"Why Tim, why now? Not once in the past three months did you even try talking to me. Not once did you tell me this wasn't what you wanted. Not once." Sighing wearily, she pulled out the closest chair and slumped into it.

"You're right," he conceded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I should've, but you haven't exactly made that easy have you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Don't Tim," she commanded, sitting upright. "Don't put this on me. You are the one who checked out of our marriage."

"This… this isn't easy for me, none of it is," he began, not hiding his frustration.

"And what? This is somehow easy for me? Have you forgotten that I have been a part of this as well?" she asked, raising her voice.

"No, I haven't. And I haven't forgotten that you came to this _solution_," he spit that word with derision, "pretty quickly, if you recall."

"And you agreed with me, Tim. Have you forgotten that?" she quickly countered.

Heaving a heavy sigh of frustration, he could feel the tension in the room increasing as well as the walls continuing to close in. He wondered what Cheryl, 'the specialist in peaceful resolution' thought about the non-peaceful conversation heating up her harmonious office. Turning his attention back to his wife, he knew they needed to get past this part if they had any chance of breaking down the walls they'd erected in the past few months. It wasn't going to be easy and it wasn't going to be pretty. "You're right. I agreed and maybe for a brief time I convinced myself that it was the right thing to do, but it's not, at least not for me, and not for Ali, either." Watching her expression, he could see the wheels turning as she tried to fit this together in a way that made sense.

"Tim, is that what this is about, Ali? Are you afraid you won't see her?" she asked, her voice full of emotion. "Because you know I would _never_ keep her from you. Ever. You can see her whenever you want. Even if we're not married, you are still her father, and always will be. She needs you in her life, no matter what happens to us. I promise you that." The sincerity and pain in her voice were heartbreaking.

"I know that Calleigh. This isn't about Ali. Well, it is, but not completely. This is about us, what we have, what we had," he said, his own voice close to breaking. "The two of you… you're my family." He swallowed hard over the lump forming in his throat. "You and Ali, you're all I've got, all that matters. I'm just not willing to walk away. I can't do it Calleigh, I'm sorry. I know how hard it was to come here today, at least I know what it was like for me to walk through that door, and I shouldn't have waited until now, but I can't give up without trying." This time he grabbed the chair, yanking it out from under the table and slumped hard into it, holding his head in his hands. This was harder than he thought. He just wanted a chance to talk to her, but she was right, he'd had all the time in the world and he did nothing. Nothing. His body shuddered as he drew in a sharp breath.

"I don't know what to say. I don't know what to say," she repeated in a confused, sad voice.

A rapping on the door startled them both, instantly reminding them of their whereabouts. Cheryl poked her head in the room. "I'm sorry, I don't like disturbing you, but I do have a meeting here in about five minutes," she said awkwardly.

"We're ready to leave," Tim said. He walked to where Calleigh sat, pulled out the chair for her, and with his hand lightly on her shoulder, he guided her out of the room. He ignored Cheryl's reminder to reschedule, as well as the curious stare coming from the receptionist. _When Hell freezes over_, he thought to himself. A heavy silence shrouded them as they made their way outside to her car. His temples throbbed from the strain and his stomach remained a jumble of knots, but now free of those claustrophobic confines he could finally breathe easier.

"She was sleeping when you left?" Calleigh asked, closing her eyes as she leaned against the vehicle.

"Yeah," he nodded. He sidled up to her, inhaling her familiar scent as it surrounded him. "She was pretty worn out. From the looks of things, she'd been having a busy day. Blocks were pretty much everywhere," he chuckled.

"She got her blocks out?" she asked, brightening.

"Yeah. The ones that snap together and the plain wooden ones," he answered, grateful for this brief respite. "She was pretty excited to show me how she could stack a couple," he said with a small smile, unable to mask his pride. "Her fine motor skills are improving. She was less frustrated with them."

She nodded, smiling as well. "Every day she's doing something new. It's good to see, a relief, really. I was so afraid she was going to lag behind."

"Nah. She's smart, Cal, really smart. She constantly amazes me. She's not even two and she already knows so much," he said, shaking his head. "Her mind is really quick. She just needed a little time to catch up. She's been through a lot." They both fell into a thoughtful silence.

"I'm sorry we have to go through this," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet. "It was a mistake, our getting married. We did it for the wrong reasons."

"I don't want us to give up," he countered, wondering if it sounded like pleading to her ears.

"Ali will always tie us together, but that doesn't mean we should stay married. She can't be what keeps us together," she said with certainty. The sound of thunder startled them both. A few sprinkles followed and by the looks of the sky, the heavy rain wouldn't be far behind.

"We need to talk about this. _I_ need to talk about this. Is there anywhere we can go? Someplace away from here?" he asked insistently. He could see the doubt in her eyes. There was no question he was offering too little too late, but right now, that plus desperation was all he had. "Please?"

tbc


	2. Accusation

Shades of Gray

Accusation

"…_Not once did you tell me this wasn't what you wanted." _

Her words rang loudly in his head while he waited. Stark still, he fought against his body's need to release the nervous energy building inside him. He well remembered the last time anxiety controlled his every thought and deed, and it wasn't something he wished to revisit. Barely breathing, he felt the pressure build in his lungs and it gave him something to focus on. Out of options and up against the wall, his charm and his wits were not likely to bail him out this time. Only she could. Allowing her all the way in was the only way to make things right between them; yet to do so could cause irreparable damage. And there lay the irony that had a permanent place in his life, often bitter, seldom sweet, but easily found. He couldn't get back to her without first revealing what had driven him away. He'd spent far too many sleepless nights of late ruminating on that very thought to know anything otherwise. Just as he also knew that letting her get too close, and allowing her to examine the truths of him, might mean losing her forever.

It had been a mistake to wait until today. It was more than likely that the delay had made her even more resistant. And that would be saying a lot. The recent change in her demeanor both troubled and confounded him. Her request that he move out had come at a time when both were hurting and completely closed off to one another. The strain of the previous two months had taken its toll and by the time the appeal had been made, it was viewed as a welcome respite from the damaging tension that had settled over their formerly happy home. The decision to divorce came a month later. Depleted, and feeling there was nothing left to give to their young and ailing marriage, it stood out as a viable option. The frost between them thawed soon after, as both were deeply committed to raising their daughter together.

An awkward, yet pleasing normalcy surrounded them. Missing them both more than he'd admit, Tim began spending as much time at the home they once shared as he thought she could tolerate, always under the guise of visiting Ali. In many ways, it was as if they were the family they had been before the split. But one thing remained unchanged; they completely sidestepped any discussion of their marriage. As the date for mediation grew closer, Tim grew more anxious to set things right and Calleigh grew more distant. Over the past few days, she gave him a wide berth, making the reality of what he was about to lose hit him squarely between the eyes.

"I have to be back soon for Ali," she said, averting her eyes from his. She swung her upturned hand out in front of her catching the fat drops that had begun to fall. "We could sit in the car, if that's okay. I have a little time," she said, glancing at her watch.

"Yeah, that'll be okay," he said, letting out the breath he'd been holding. Relief washed over him as he walked ahead to open the driver's side door for her. "Thank you," he whispered almost to himself once they were both settled inside the vehicle.

"I know this is hard Tim, but I think it's for the best. I think we both wanted to do what we thought was the right thing at the time, and… and it wasn't," she said very softly, wasting no time getting to the point.

"Cal, I don't believe that and I'd hoped you didn't either," he said with frustration.

"Tim, you married me because I was pregnant. You didn't love me and I knew that. I knew it wasn't what you wanted, even if you never came right out and said it."

"That's not entirely true," he tried, finding words failing him as they often did.

"We were sleeping together, that's all it was. And if I hadn't gotten pregnant, then I doubt we'd even still be doing that," she said, sitting stiffly in the car with her hands on the wheel as if poised to leave in a heartbeat.

Exhaling loudly in frustration, he roughly raked his hands through his hair. "It was a little more than that. Maybe it wasn't what it could've or should've been, but it wasn't just sleeping together. And you don't know how things would've turned out," he said in a barely audible voice, not caring whether she heard or not.

"Don't I?" she asked, clearly having heard him.

"No, you don't," he replied, biting back his sarcasm. "Neither of us does."

She swung around to face him with accusing eyes and an expression of defiance. "We weren't even _dating_. You were happy with nothing more than sleeping together. You didn't _want_ anything more complicated than that. You needed to be able to walk away at any time. You didn't have to say the words aloud for me to know that the only reason you kept coming back was because you knew you could always walk away." She dropped her chin and closed her eyes as she paused to take a breath, but he doubted she was finished. "You weren't the only one complacent about things. I, too, could've walked away anytime and I chose not to. But we were wrong, Tim. Wrong to think we could keep doing what we were doing and no one would get hurt. _We have a child._ And now there are three people who stand to be hurt." Her words, tinged with equal parts disgust and hurt, cut straight through to his heart.

_We have a child. _The phrase still echoed in his ears. The complication they hadn't planned on, and couldn't walk away from. The end result of a potent combination of the flu, missed pills, an inability to stay apart and the subsequent failure of back up contraception. A complication with the largest brown eyes he'd ever seen on a face so tiny. Alexandra Erin Speedle, who made her appearance almost six weeks early, thus making her one determined and complicated complication. Three people stood to be hurt. And one of them had been hurting for some time. Sadly, it wasn't about to get any better.

"You're right, I liked things between us exactly the way they were. And maybe part of that was knowing I could walk away at any time," he admitted with difficulty. "Things were straightforward with us, or at least that's what I told myself. I think maybe, on some level, I always knew that things couldn't keep on like that indefinitely. I just didn't want to have to think about it. But I don't remember hearing any complaints from you at the time." He paused, breathing deeply and stole a sideways glance. Maybe that wasn't entirely truthful; maybe it was more that he simply hadn't paid attention. She was sitting back in the seat now, staring out her side window with an expression he could only imagine. "Calleigh, just because I thought I could walk away at any time, didn't mean I had any intention of doing so. And after we found out about the baby…" the thought trailed off unfinished, because he just wasn't ready to go there yet.

She spun to meet his gaze, and her eyes were flashing with anger. "I didn't want you to stay with me because you were obligated. I made that perfectly clear. I was set to do this on my own," she replied sharply.

"Calleigh, we talked through this. It wasn't about obligation, I wanted to be with you."

"You wanted to sleep with me, but you didn't want to marry me." Her voice rang with anger, yet her eyes told a different story. "I knew it, even though you never spelled it out like that. Deep down I worried we were making a mistake."

"Maybe I didn't, but I didn't want to leave you, either. I thought the decision we made was the right one. I still do," he said with as much conviction as he could muster in his current frustrated state.

"Not when we married for the wrong reasons," she said in an icy tone that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Leaning back in his seat, he clenched and unclenched his fists at the futility of this conversation. "The problem is, you want this to be black and white and it's not. Very little in life is; most everything falls into the gray areas. We didn't make a right decision or a wrong decision, for the right reasons or the wrong reasons. We made the best decision we could at the time." He turned to face her. "If you had so many reservations, then why did you marry me?"

"I don't know," she said sadly, shaking her head.

"Well, I do. Whatever we were in, we were in it together. Does it matter what I felt then? It doesn't matter anymore if I did or didn't want to get married. Can't you see that?" he implored, feeling his heart on the line. "The desire to stay with you was stronger than anything else I felt at the time. That's what I went with. You want black and white? _I love you._ I love you _now_. And I love Ali. The two of you, you're all that matter to me. And I _do_ want to be with you. Those are the only things I'm absolutely certain of. Everything else falls into the gray."

"You love me? Well, that's the one thing I'm _not_ certain of," she said, and nowhere was the truth of her words more apparent than in her eyes. "Without that, we are _nowhere_. I've been that route with you Tim, and I'm not traveling it any longer. And there is nothing gray about that."

Dropping his head, he closed his eyes. "I know that, Calleigh. I do know that. But I am certain, even if you're not." A heavy silence filled the car as he contemplated the irony that continued to dog him.

"I didn't come to this decision lightly. This has been the hardest choice I've ever had to make… and every time I think about Ali… and not having you around for her, for me…" Her voice broke and he watched helplessly as she struggled to regain control.

He reached his hand out to hers and lightly squeezed, overly grateful she didn't just pull away from him. She didn't meet his eyes, but he could see the unshed tears she tried to blink away, and he had heard them in her voice. "I know this hasn't been easy for you, but are you really sure this is what you want?" he asked in a gentle voice. Not waiting for an answer, he continued. "Things were good between us Calleigh. Not like anything I'd ever even imagined. Our relationship changed. _I_ changed." She gave him an almost imperceptible nod of her head. A wistful smile formed on her lips. He imagined her remembering the same things he did, long walks and late nights; falling into bed exhausted, yet never being too tired. Marveling over everything Ali did and having someone to share that with. If only he could stay there, in the before, where things had worked and he finally learned how to give her more than a great night in the sack. But he hadn't learned that lesson well enough, and they were both now paying the price for that failure.

"Things did change. I could almost tell you the day." He waited for her to say more, but instead she turned her far away gaze to the window. There was no choice now but to take this all the way to the end. A slow, painful reveal where she would see him for the man he really was, and maybe, the man he hoped he'd become.

"The idea of making any commitment to you scared me. It had to do more with me, and my perceived limitations, than how I felt about you, or how we were together. I think that's why I never wanted to examine my feelings very closely, because then I'd have to do something about them. Maybe you're right," he sighed. "Maybe nothing would've ever changed between us, that is, until you grew tired of me. And even when we did move forward, because of Ali, I still wasn't there… I still held back. But somewhere along the way the lines blurred and everything else fell away. I wasn't just going through the motions any longer. It was my life, and I didn't hold back from it. The only thing that scared me was the absence of the two of you in it."

"Then, what happened, Tim? Why are we here? In this parking lot, of all places?" she asked with heartbreaking honesty, looking to him as if he had all the answers she'd long been waiting for.

Letting go of the hand he hadn't realized he still held, he rubbed at his temples with the tips of his fingers, hoping to push out the knots forming there. "Ali got sick," he said, swallowing hard. "I thought, I really thought we were going to lose her…" he said, letting his voice trail off.

"We didn't," she jumped in. "Ali is fine," she reassured. "But us? We did lose each other after that."

"Yeah, we did," he sighed with a resigned nod.

"I needed you," she said, looking at him pointedly. "That was the scariest experience I've ever been through, far worse even than when she was born so early. And you? You disappeared on me, Tim, when I needed you most, and I still don't know why," she said. The anguish in her voice was unmistakable and her words resonated deep inside him. His efforts to avoid hurting her had succeeded in hurting her far more than he ever realized at the time.

"I didn't disappear Calleigh. I never left your side, either of you. I needed you, too, for what it's worth," he said, pursing his lips and breathing heavily.

"And what about after? What about when we came home? When I never slept and I couldn't stop worrying about her? What about then? She was a mess, Tim. She was so far from the happy baby she had been before she got sick," she said with a small sob as if she could no longer restrain the pain she she'd been holding onto for so long.

"I know. I know she was," he answered, wracked with guilt.

"She wouldn't eat and wouldn't sleep. I couldn't leave her side without her crying. And _I_ was a mess, but you wouldn't know that, because _you_ _were_ _never_ _there_," she said, her control regained.

"I had to work Calleigh. One of us had to work. The bills don't pay themselves, or have you forgotten that? I had already been off for over three weeks. What did you want me to do?" he asked, unable to quell his rising anger. "I couldn't be in two places."

"Don't use that excuse with me. You didn't just go to work; you used it to escape being home. You checked out Tim, on me, and on Ali. You came home late, when you came home at all and then you slept on the couch. And you said nothing to me. Nothing," she emphasized. "I tried to get through to you, but you barely spoke at all. The most I got out of you were inquiries about Ali. Did you just want out that badly?" she asked, her anger matching his. "This was not what you signed on for? What am I saying?" she asked, shaking her head in disgust. "You never wanted this in the first place," she answered, spitting the words at him. The venom in her voice, though, contradicted the pain trapped in her eyes.

He shook his head miserably. "That is so far from the truth. So very far," he said quietly, slumping into his seat, and wishing he could simply disappear. "I knew how bad things were, and that I wasn't any help. It was all I could do to get through each day. There was so much stuff I had to keep pushing further and further down. Stuff I didn't know how to deal with. Honestly Calleigh, I was afraid I was unraveling, and I couldn't let that happen _because_ you two needed me. At work, I didn't have to worry about that because I was in control. Work kept me sane. We were shorthanded and I was as busy as I've ever been; it was easy to lose myself in it. I needed that, but at the same time, I knew I was letting you down. And that was just the one more thing I couldn't deal with." Stopping to take a breath, he turned his gaze to his window, concentrating on the rivulets of water forming on the glass. He felt suddenly weary, wanting nothing more than to climb out from under the weight he'd been hauling around these past few months. When they'd needed him most, he'd had the least to give, the irony of his life in a nutshell. Forever haunted by his failures, this is the one that cast the darkest shadow. "You weren't the only one not sleeping. Every time I dozed off, I'd jerk awake in a cold sweat convinced she wasn't breathing and that I'd somehow neglected her. Watching her sleep, seeing her breathe, that was the only thing that calmed me down and convinced me the dream wasn't real. I couldn't let go of it, any of it," he said as his voice cracked and he had to stop. "That's why I started sleeping on the couch, I didn't want to keep waking you. I didn't want you to have to keep reliving it with me."

"Why didn't you talk to me if you were having such a hard time? Why did you shut me out completely? I was there for you. We were in this together, Tim. What was I supposed to think? You left me thinking you didn't care at all," she said, bewildered. He could feel her probing eyes, but he kept his gaze on the window and the rain.

"I wanted to talk to you Calleigh. I needed to. You were the only one I could talk to. But I couldn't, and that's the part you don't understand. You were completely focused on Ali, and under enough of a strain as it were. You didn't need more of anything, and certainly not all my stuff. I just kept pushing everything further down. I didn't want to hurt you, that was never my intention," he sighed, feeling spent.

"Which you did, anyway. Deeply," she said dejectedly. "You're right, my focus was solely on Ali, but Tim, whatever is going on with you affects me as well. You don't seem to realize that, which makes me wonder what we've been doing these past two years. I had no idea what was going on with you, except that you wanted to keep your distance from me, from Ali. All I could see was that you'd had enough. That this wasn't the life you wanted after all," she said sounding sadly resigned.

"That wasn't it. Not even close," he said in a low voice, finally turning to her.

"Then what? Because I don't know what you couldn't talk to me about…unless," she paused, dropping her eyes from his and biting on her bottom lip.

"Unless what?" he asked, squinting at her, confused.

"I don't know," she said haltingly, avoiding his eyes.

The tension in the car grew thicker and more palpable while he waited for her to say whatever it was she was holding back. Whatever it was couldn't be worse than thinking he didn't care. There was nothing that mattered more than she and Ali. And nothing, he realized as he fidgeted restlessly in his seat, that he could do to make her see that.

"I didn't know what to think when I heard the rumor. I barely ever saw you and we weren't speaking much," she said sadly.

"What rumor?" he asked, racking his brain for some clue and coming up short.

"Was there someone else?" she finally asked after a seemingly endless silence.

"Someone else, what?" he asked, frowning, making no sense of her words.

"Did you have an affair?" she asked, her eyes now locked on his.

He sat upright, her words startling, confounding him. Blinking hard, he wondered for a moment if he'd misunderstood, but reading her expression, rapidly put that thought to rest. "You're serious? You think I had an affair? After Ali was sick? You think I could do something like that?" he asked coldly, feeling his jaw tense with each syllable he spoke. Her response was to lower her chin and close her eyes. Its effect was the equivalence of a solid punch to his gut. His hand was on the door, his body halfway out before the full implication of her question was wholly realized. _She doesn't know me. She doesn't know me at all._

tbc


	3. Explanation

Shades of Gray

Explanation

Pacing the pavement outside the car, he roughly raked his hands through his hair and tried to make sense of her question. Although to his ears it sounded more like an accusation, and an outlandish, out of the blue one at that. His wife thought he'd had an affair. She'd actually thought him capable of such an act, never mind that she'd thought he'd done such a thing fresh on the heels of Ali's illness. It didn't make sense. He'd been closed off to her; he knew that, but _an affair_? What could she possibly be thinking? He'd barely been getting through each day. He didn't possess the energy, the stomach or more importantly, the desire for an affair. Turning towards the car, he shook his head in disbelief, before heading towards his bike.

"Tim, please. Don't go," she called after him. He spun around to face her, opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, exhaling loudly instead. Quickly closing the space between them, she tentatively placed one hand on his arm, while shielding the rain from her face with the other. "Please, Tim. Please don't leave. I'm sorry."

"What am I supposed to say, Calleigh? How can you even ask me that?" he asked, unsuccessfully keeping the emotion out of his voice.

"I told you," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "At the time, I didn't know what to think. You wouldn't talk to me."

"And _this_ is the leap you made from that?" he asked, disbelieving.

"When I went back to work, I… I heard something… about you… and someone," she began tentatively, before being interrupted.

"Oh, that's even better," he exclaimed sarcastically. "What? You hear ridiculous gossip about me and therefore it must be true? Even though it goes against everything you know about me? That's what you're telling me?"

"I didn't say I believed it," she tried, sounding distressed.

"But what? You considered it? Like there's some difference between the two?" he asked, not masking his anger.

"There _is_ a difference. I didn't want to think that it could be true, but it was something, something at least, that would explain your behavior other than the fact that you just wanted away from us."

"Calleigh," he replied with rising frustration, rubbing his face with one hand. "Why didn't you just ask me? Why would you listen to that shit that goes around the lab? There has been no one, Calleigh. _No one_. Since that first night we were together, it's been only you."

"Because, at the time, I didn't want to know the truth," she admitted wearily, slumping against the car and lowering her head in the continued drizzle.

"So it was easier to think the worst of me than to just ask? Wasn't the truth worth knowing?" he asked, frowning, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. Shuffling his feet, he debated leaving.

"And how many times did I try asking what was going on with you, Tim? How many times?" she asked with agitation.

"You never asked me that. Never. I would've told you the truth and you should've known that. I may be a lousy father and an even worse husband, but a cheat, and a liar? _That's_ the kind of person you think I am? The person you would prefer to believe I am? Do you not know me at all?"

"I thought I knew you, I did, but then? I'm not so sure. The Tim I knew wouldn't have disappeared the way you did. Not when we needed you," she replied with bitterness.

"Cal, I wasn't leaving you, no matter what you think," he said, shifting his weight back and forth. This was even harder than he thought it was going to be. Sighing heavily, he joined her, slumping against the wet car just as the rain picked up again. His own words sounded hollow to his ears, no wonder they produced such a look of skepticism in her eyes. Not that he blamed her. He had been so far into his head; so convinced she and Ali would be better off without him, he wasn't capable of thinking straight at the time. She was right, for all intents and purposes he'd left them. Nothing he did or said now was going to get that time back.

"I don't want to stand out here in the rain any longer," she said flatly, as she made her way to the driver's side. He hung his head defeated, and contemplated whether the decision to return to the dry car included an invitation for him join her. Deciding to take a chance that it did, he quietly climbed back into the passenger side. Always prepared for whatever emergency might crop up when traveling with an almost two year old in tow, she wordlessly handed him a towel to dry off with.

"Nah. Thanks, but I'm just gonna get wet again when I go back out," he said quietly. They sat in silence, the pelting rain the only sound heard. Getting more agitated by the minute, he wondered if getting back into the car was such a good idea. He glanced in her direction, surprised to find her watching him expectantly. His cue to say something, he supposed. "I tried…" he hesitated a moment, unsure how to explain. "I tried to make things up to you. I know it was probably too little, too late. But I… I got the sense that maybe for you, maybe that wasn't what you wanted. At least not then," he said, feeling the futility of anything he said at this point.

"Like now?" she asked, keeping her eyes on his.

"I'm not following," he said, quirking his brow in confusion.

"Tim, did you just think that you could walk in there today, decide we weren't getting divorced and things would be fine?" she asked softly without a hint of sarcasm.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I knew there were some things we needed to work out, I knew what I wanted, but," he sighed deeply, letting the unfinished thought hang in the air between them.

"We have to think about Ali. We have to put her first, and that means resolving things between us," she said simply. "I thought that's what we were going to do today."

"I know that Calleigh. I want what's best for her, too. And that's what I wanted to do today. I just hoped…" Again he let the thought trail off unfinished as a tense silence filled the vehicle. "Never mind what I hoped. I want what's best for both of you," he said as he gripped the door handle, ready to make his exit.

"And that doesn't include what we both agreed to, a quick resolution, with as little discord between us as possible?" She spoke carefully, each word chosen for maximum impact and minimal upset. Her voice was steady, her eyes, though, her eyes betrayed the certainty she was trying to convey.

"You're right, we both agreed. But this _finality_, I didn't see it coming. Even when you told me this was what you decided, even when I heard myself agreeing, it was like it came from somewhere outside of myself. It never felt real. Not till the past couple weeks," he confessed.

"What changed, Tim? What made you change your mind? What haven't you been able to tell me?" His only response was a sharp inhalation. "Maybe I wasn't ready to hear you before, but I'm listening now," she said, gently placing her hand on his arm. He nodded, sighing. There was nothing left to lose.

"Do you remember that morning?" he asked. To his ears, his voice sounded far off, but it must not have to her, because he glanced over and saw her slight nod. "You asked me if I would stay home with her till you got out of court, instead of having the sitter come. And I convinced you all she had was a cold and that she'd be fine. I didn't want to stay home because I had too much to do that morning," he said, feeling ashamed.

"We both thought it was just a cold. She wasn't wheezing and her temperature was only slightly above normal. I wanted you to stay home because I felt guilty leaving her, but I understood you had to go in," she interrupted. He nodded, his gaze still on the rain, his thoughts back on a day he'd sooner forget.

"I meant to call home and check on her, but I kept getting side-tracked. When the call came to get to the ER, I was stunned. I'd almost forgotten she was sick," he said, fidgeting with the door handle. "When we got there, she was surrounded by people, strangers, lots of 'em, but she was barely crying, not like she usually did around people she didn't know. All I heard were these weak whimpering sounds, and I knew then it was bad, I just had no idea it was gonna get a whole lot worse." He paused, and closed his eyes, needing a moment. "Then she just stopped. She stopped whimpering and she stopped breathing. Just like that, right in front of us." He could hear Calleigh's soft cries, but it did nothing to deter him. "That was the closest to sheer panic that I've ever felt. I thought we'd lost her. And there was nothing… nothing I could do, but stand there watching helplessly. She was my baby and I couldn't do a thing to help her. I couldn't even hold her." Blinking away the tears that had formed, he took a deep shuddering breath before continuing. "I wanted to be strong for you, but I wasn't sure I had it in me. I mean I have a badge and carry a gun; I'm trained to handle most any situation… but not that one, not that one. A little girl is not supposed to bring a grown man to his knees." He felt her hand on his arm, and turned to meet her tear filled eyes.

"She is. She is, when she's yours, and she means the world to you," she said so softly he barely heard her.

"It was too much to handle. I just pushed it down, all of it, the fear, the panic, everything but the guilt. I couldn't lose the guilt. I felt responsible for her being there. If I'd only stayed home with her…" he said, roughly brushing away a stray tear.

"Tim, don't say that," she pleaded, her hand still resting on his arm. "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could've done. She got very sick, very quickly. That's what can happen with that virus. It could've stayed a simple cold, but it didn't. There was no way of knowing."

Shaking his head, he clenched his jaw, disbelieving, not letting her words sink in. "I never even called to check on her. She should've come first. I thought you blamed me for her being there."

"Tim, I never blamed you. Never, please believe that. How could I blame you? I was far too busy blaming myself," she said, her own voice filled with anguish. "I could've asked to be let out of court that day and I didn't. Trust me, I know what that guilt feels like. Every time I leave her to go to work I feel it. We couldn't have done anything differently, the doctors told us that. Even if you had stayed home with her, she still would've ended up in the hospital."

"But I would've been with her. She shouldn't have been alone. I should've gotten her to the hospital quicker. Cal, if she, if she had…" he began haltingly, his breath and the words catching in his throat. It was a sentence he couldn't finish. That the thought itself hadn't once left his head since that morning was enough.

"We didn't," she said, tightening her hold on his arm and catching his eyes. "And we were with her. We didn't leave her side. Not once. Neither of us." To his ears, she was no more convinced of the words than he was. "I needed you to be strong for both of us and you were. I never questioned how you were doing, because, on the outside at least, you were holding it together while I was a mess," she said guiltily, shaking her head.

"You weren't a mess, you were scared. There's a difference," he said reassuringly, reaching for her hand with his and giving it a light squeeze.

"I couldn't have gotten through that whole ordeal without you," she said, sniffing.

"I'm not sure I was much help, then or after she got discharged. That first night home, I went in to check on her and decided to park myself in her room. I was too wired to sleep, and you were too exhausted to see straight. I wanted you to try to get some sleep. Ali wasn't sleeping, either. When I went over to the crib, she raised her arms, wanting to be picked up. She kept saying _dada_ over and over. It hit me in that moment… just how close I'd come to never again hearing her say that, and how I'd never wanted to hear it in the first place. I tell you, I may have kept it together in the hospital, but I lost it that night. That was the first time I cried in as long as I can remember. All those days we didn't know if she was gonna get better, all the stuff I'd pushed down... it all came back that night.

"Tim, why didn't you come to me?" she asked, anguish spilling over to her voice. "Why wouldn't you tell me what was going on? I'm so sorry you went through that alone. I had no idea. You hid it so well. I thought the opposite actually, I thought you were unaffected by the whole thing," she said, shaking her head. "When we got home from the hospital, you were anxious to get back to work. It seemed like you needed to put some distance between us."

"I couldn't, Cal. I couldn't talk to you. I didn't want you figuring out what a mistake you'd made," he answered. His voice was shaky and his body jittery. This wasn't a conversation he was prepared to continue. His body stiffened and he grabbed at the door handle, wanting desperately to flee the confines of the car and her probing eyes. Correctly reading his body language, she gently placed her hand back on his arm.

"I don't understand. Why would you think that?" she asked, sounding mystified.

He slumped back into the seat, sighing deeply. "Cal, we've almost lost her a couple of times and I can't help but feel guilty, like somehow I brought it on."

"What do you mean? You didn't bring on anything that happened to Ali," she said, puzzled.

"I know that, I mean I kept telling myself that, but in my head, I kept thinking about how much I didn't want her and was _that_ what I had wanted all along? No Ali?" Like a sliced artery, the words spilled forth in a torrent, and he was helpless to stop the flow of guilt that poured out of him. She'd see him now, as he really was. "The thought of losing her, and the memory of how much I didn't want her, were as different as two thoughts could be, but when it came right down to it, they both meant the same thing, I wouldn't have her in my life. How could I have felt that way?" Needing to breathe, he stopped, his shoulders shaking as he inhaled.

"I don't know, I don't know," she repeated. "You really didn't want her… _at all_?" she asked, incredulous. "You wished I didn't go through with the pregnancy?"

"I don't know. At the time, maybe," he sighed hopelessly. "It wasn't something I wanted to think about. I knew how you felt, though, right from the beginning. No matter how shocked and unprepared you were you still wanted her. I always knew that."

"But not you." He chanced a glance at her, unsure if that had been a statement or a question. Pale and wide-eyed, her expression gave away more than her words ever could. And unfortunately, it was one that would stay imprinted in his memory. "Tim, _she's our daughter_," she said in a pain filled voice that cut through him.

"Calleigh, she means everything to me. I would do anything for her, _anything_. You _know_ how much I love her. Why do you think telling you this is so difficult? I would do anything to tell you I was happy from the beginning," he swallowed hard, blinking back tears, "but I wasn't. My biggest fear was that I wasn't cut out for this, and that alone goes far in explaining why I felt the way I did. And when she was born, I didn't feel the things you're supposed to feel for your child. I really didn't feel much of anything at all, which just confirmed everything I had been afraid of," he explained remorsefully.

"I thought you were just reluctant, and that she was born before you were ready. I had no idea you didn't want her at all. Then why did you stay with me? I don't understand. You didn't have to be part of this, you had a choice," she said, her expression confirming her bewilderment.

"I did choose. I chose to stay with you," he answered truthfully.

"Even though you didn't want our baby?" Again, he wasn't certain if it were a question or a statement. Either way, his admission, his failure to want their child had hurt her, something else he couldn't take back.

"I made the right decision and I've never regretted it. The same way I could never regret Ali. No matter what you think right now, the two of you mean everything to me. You have to believe that," he pleaded as his voice caught in his throat.

"I honestly don't know what to think, Tim," she said sadly. "My head is spinning right now. This is _not_ what I was expecting today, not at all."

"I know it's not. I'm so sorry. It's not what I expected, either. I'm sorry Calleigh, about everything." It was all he had to offer her, but it didn't seem to be nearly enough to cover the damage. A thick silence cloaked the car and only served to increase his agitation.

"It's not the same," she said, startling him from his thoughts. His body jerked to attention. "What you said about losing her and… and wondering if it was the same as not wanting her. It's not. It may have taken some time for you to get comfortable with having her, and I won't lie, it hurts deeply to know what was going on in your head when she was born," she sighed. "But I do know how you feel about her. And I also know that _no one_ could be a better father to her than you are. No one could love her more. No one." She smiled slightly, her eyes still shining from tears. He nodded, not trusting his voice. That she believed that at least, would have to be enough. "I don't know what to think about us anymore. I wasn't expecting to hear that you didn't want to go through with the divorce. But Tim, I don't know where we can go from here," she said, her own voice breaking. "There's so much you kept from me. A lot came at us in a short period of time. Too much for us to handle well. We weren't strong enough, you know? And we have to be, for Ali's sake."

"You're right. Ali comes first. I'm sorry," he answered, unwilling to risk saying more and losing whatever composure he had left.

"I have to go. I have to get back for her," she said, sniffling. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" He nodded his answer, his hand already on the door handle. Exiting into the drizzly late afternoon, he headed straight for his bike, not trusting himself a backwards glance.

tbc


	4. Consideration

Shades of Gray

Consideration

The sound persisted, rousing him from his drowsy state. This wasn't his imagination; someone was rapping forcefully at his door, and they sounded like they had been going at it for some time. Sitting up, he winced and raised his hand to his forehead. His fingertips ghosted the fresh sutures in his temple courtesy of: too little sleep and the resulting slower reflexes, an ineffective, rookie patrolman on the job and an enraged, unsecured suspect wielding a heavy flashlight. A combination, which, when mixed together under the right circumstances, meant an unpleasant afternoon spent in the emergency room for him.

_A flashlight_, he scoffed, _taken down with a measly flashlight.__I really need a day off_, he thought as he slowly got up from the couch. "That was quick," he said to himself, taking a quick glance at his watch, surprised to see only twenty-five minutes had passed since he'd sacked out on his make shift bed. Reaching for his wallet on the way, he extracted a twenty. "Hold on, I'm coming," he hollered through the door, fumbling with the doorknob that jammed in place on a regular basis whether it was locked or not. Still fiddling with the lock, he didn't look up till the door was half way open. Brows drawn together, he blinked several times at the sight in his doorway. Clearly, this was not the take-out he'd ordered. "Calleigh," he said in surprise, still holding out the bill.

"Hi," she said, looking him up and down. Neither spoke for a long moment. Realizing he was still holding out the money, he folded it into his palm and dropped his hand to his side. "Expecting someone else?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

"Huh? Oh, the money. Yeah. Delivery guy. Dinner. I thought you were him," he answered frowning, clueless about the reason behind this unexpected visit.

"Can I come in?" she asked tentatively.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry. Come on in. You alone? Ali's not with you?" he asked, wondering where the little one was. A brief pre-naptime visit yesterday was the only time he'd had with her in the past few days due to his recent spell of overtime. It was difficult to go a day without seeing her, but there wasn't much he could do when she was asleep by the time he left work. The best he could hope for was a chance to make it up to her when he had some free time, while at the same time, attempting to put some distance between him and Calleigh.

"No, I left her with Daddy. He came by earlier," she explained, scrutinizing, first him, then the room.

"Oh, okay." Her furtive glances around the studio apartment didn't go unnoticed. "I, uh, guess you've never been here. It's kind of a hole," he shrugged.

The dark and drab studio apartment had seen its better days years ago, but it wasn't chosen for its aesthetics. Instead, it was cheap, vacant and available on a month-to-month lease. Considering he had a mortgage to make every month, in addition to the rent, cheap won out over livability. Located in a less than desirable neighborhood, its one other plus was that it was close to work, making his daily commute easier. Unfortunately, it was a hike from the tidy, three-bedroom house he and Calleigh had bought when they married, so in the end he spent more time on the road than ever, but there was little he could do about that.

She hadn't said anything, but her expression was easy to read. Whatever she was expecting in the way of his new living arrangements, this clearly wasn't it. Looking around, he couldn't help but see it from her eyes, and the contrast between this place and the tidy, bright home they'd shared was startling. The only natural light came from one medium sized window, causing the room to appear dreary, even in the middle of a sunny day. The room, itself, was about the size of their master bedroom, with a small galley kitchen area off to one side, and a tiny, separate bath situated next to that. There was no separate bedroom; his bed was a foldout couch. That ancient relic with the iron bar going across the middle of the mattress was murder on his back, so he never bothered pulling it out. There wasn't much in the way of furniture, just the basics along with a television and a radio. Her expression changed from shock to sadness as she took it all in from the doorway.

"It's not that bad. It's not like there are any rats living here," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I had no idea," she said as she continued to scan the room, now looking horrified at the idea of rats inhabiting the apartment with him.

"Relax, there aren't rats, at least none that I've ever seen," he said with a chuckle. Unfortunately, that comment didn't amuse her the way he'd hoped it would. "Look, I know it's not a great place, but it serves its purpose. It's not like I was ever going to bring Ali here, if that's what you're worried about. I know it's no place for her. I'm planning to look for something better," he said defensively.

"What? You're going to look for something else?" she asked, not masking her surprise.

"Eventually, I guess," he shrugged, shifting his weight uncomfortably, wanting to get out of the doorway. "Calleigh, I know you're not here to see my apartment, so why exactly are you here? Is something going on? The little one okay? You okay?"

"No, nothing's going on. We're both fine. I came to see how _you_ were," she said with emphasis.

He tipped his head, raising his eyebrows at her, and winced at the discomfort the movement caused. "Oh, that," he shrugged, "it's nothing."

Taking a step closer, she reached up, gingerly placing her fingertips to the side of the gash. "This doesn't look like nothing. Does it hurt a lot?" she asked, her face creased with worry.

"Nah," he lied. He chose to ignore the dull ache that was on its way to becoming a raging headache. The painful pull on his stitches every time he raised his eyebrows, or scrunched his brow, was a bit harder to ignore, but nothing she needed to worry about. "It's no big deal. A few stitches, that's all it is. How'd you even hear?" he asked, frowning.

"Well, not because anyone called me," she said, surprising him with her annoyed concern. "I wouldn't have known at all, except I stopped into work this afternoon when Daddy came by so that I could catch up on some paperwork. I overheard a conversation, and then went to Eric for the rest of the story. You refused to go to the emergency room," she said, although her voice went up at the end, making it sound more like a question. Or maybe it was that she couldn't quite believe he'd refuse medical attention, he wasn't certain. "And you had to be convinced. I don't understand why no one called me. Why didn't you call me?" she asked, looking at him pointedly and sounding genuinely upset.

He sighed heavily, the ache in his head choosing that moment to intensify. "There was no reason to call you," he said flatly.

"You were attacked and could've been badly hurt, that wasn't a reason to call me? Did you just decide I wouldn't care that you were spending the afternoon in an emergency room?"

"I guess," he answered dismissively. Judging from her expression, his response bothered her, although he wasn't sure why. "I wasn't attacked, I got clocked, and it was my own fault for not getting out of the way. I'm fine. If it makes you feel better, they even X-rayed my head. So, we can we just forget it now?" he asked with growing annoyance.

"If it had been me, would you have wanted to have been called?" she asked, ignoring his plea to let the subject drop and irritating him further.

"Of course," he answered a little too quickly. Catching himself, he added, "that's different. If something happens to you it affects Ali."

"No, it really isn't different," she sighed, shaking her head. "I would've been there for you, had you called, had someone called. You shouldn't have been there alone," she said softly. Sighing, he dropped his eyes from her intense gaze. It was too much, her questions, her concern, her proximity, just having her in his hole of an apartment. This visit dredged up too many conflicting feelings he wasn't prepared to deal with today. Starting with the fact that he'd wanted to call her, more than he cared admitting.

He hated hospitals, always had for as long as he could remember. His only experiences with them weren't good ones and they'd left their scars. No one knew that better than Calleigh. His discomfort only escalated after Ali's recent admission to the Pediatric ICU via the emergency room. "Why don't we get out of the doorway," he said, tipping his head towards the living area, needing to change the subject. "You can sit, it's clean," he said motioning to the couch. "Just toss that stuff on the floor," he added, pointing to the rumpled shirt, pillow and blanket currently taking up space there. Instead, she deftly folded the shirt and blanket, piling them on top of the pillow beside her, while he watched from across the room.

Seating himself in the chair across from her, he looked up to find her studying the photographs he had displayed on the table beside the couch. Doubles of ones they had at home, and newly framed, they were the only niceties in the entire room. A photograph of the three of them, three different poses of Ali at various stages, and a couple of Calleigh alone, made up the grouping. As if mindful she was under his scrutiny, she put down the picture she had in her hand. "I didn't realize you had these," she said, or asked; he wasn't quite sure, only that she seemed surprised, and maybe pleased.

"Yeah. I didn't think you'd mind. I needed something," he shrugged. "Those were extras. I grabbed them out of that chest in the study," he explained, fixing his gaze on the table instead of her. There was a strange discomfort surrounding being caught with photographs of his soon to be ex-wife next to his makeshift bed.

"And you put them in frames?" Again, he wasn't sure if she were asking or pointing out. At any rate, there was no need to reply; it was obvious he had. Squinting at her, he wondered where this was going. She was paying little heed to him; her fingers had just landed on a small pile of unframed photographs he'd left on the table. Biting on her lip, she took her time examining each one, before she stopped, taking one out of the pile and holding it up for closer inspection. A wistful smile crept onto her lips as she gazed at the picture in hand. He knew which one it was without any visible proof. The expression on her face was the only evidence he needed. "Tim? Where'd you get this?" she asked sounding bewildered.

"Delko," he answered succinctly, wondering how much she remembered of the night pictured. "He finally got around to making prints and handed them to me a few days ago. There are some cute ones of the little one in that pile. He's probably got extras for you," he offered, but she wasn't paying attention. Her eyes remained fixed on the photo, on an image he'd committed to memory, and a night he remembered well.

The occasion had been an impromptu team dinner at Alexx's, a couple weeks before Ali got sick. With Ali in the hands of their friends, Calleigh and he had wandered onto the porch for a stolen a moment alone, blissfully unaware that Delko was lurking about with his new digital camera. In the photo, she is standing with her back flush against his chest, leaving negligible space between them. Her head is resting on his shoulder, while his arms encircled her from behind, and tangled up with hers. His head tipped slightly, his eyes are on her, and his mouth by her ear. Her smile, though, that's what set this photograph apart from any of the others. It's a smile of pure radiance, and it lit up her face, giving her an ethereal quality. He couldn't help wondering if she saw in that photograph what he did, tangible proof that they were once, really and truly happy. And as any good CSI knows, the evidence never lies.

"I don't remember seeing him take this," she said, finally looking up and smiling a small, sad smile that hurt him in a way he never would've expected.

"Me either," he said, shifting uncomfortably in the chair as an awkward silence enveloped the room. If she came here today because of his injury, she'd now seen him for herself and been reassured that he was fine. So what was keeping her here? She didn't usually like to leave Ali for very long with her father, even though he'd been sober for almost two years. His knee jiggled of its own accord; unable to keep still, while across from him she sat barely moving. Her preoccupied expression, though, was a dead giveaway; something was on her mind, which likely meant she wouldn't be leaving quite yet. Glancing at his watch, he wondered when his delivery guy would be showing up. They operated on a schedule all their own in this neck of the woods and he was never sure if it would be forty-five minutes or eighty-five minutes.

"I've been wanting to talk to you for the past few days, but work's been pretty busy, especially for you. You haven't looked like you've been sleeping very well, so I decided to wait till things calmed down," she said, the serious tone in her voice pulling him from his head. He raised an eyebrow at her, and winced, forgetting that when he did that it pulled on his stitches. "Since I'm here now," she paused, as if uncertain what came next. This had to be about their mediation appointment, he surmised, fidgeting in his seat. _That's something to look forward to_, he thought sarcastically. "I've noticed you haven't been around as much the last couple of weeks."

"What?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard right. Hadn't understood and wasn't expecting was more like it. "I see Ali as often as I possibly can. I try to spend time with her every day, but sometimes it's just not possible. If I get out of work late and she's already asleep, what do you expect me to do? You don't want me waking her up," he said defensively, feeling frustrated. Having this guilt thrown on top of all the guilt he already carried was completely unexpected.

"I know you do," she said, nodding. "I guess that's not what I meant. I'm sorry you thought that's what I was implying. I suppose this isn't really about Ali," she began before he cut her off.

"Please tell me this isn't about the lawn. I paid that kid to take care of it. I can't be everywhere, Calleigh," he said, getting out of the chair, unable to stay confined any longer.

"It's not about the lawn, either, it's nothing like that. It's more that you come over, see Ali and leave," she said tentatively.

"And what, exactly, is wrong with that?" he asked, growing more irritated as he began to pace.

"It's different now. You used to hang around, fixing something or other, or even just watering the lawn. Now you're in and out, a single-minded mission to see Ali, nothing else. And if you take her for a walk, or go to the playground, you go alone, instead of asking me to go with you," she continued, her drawl becoming more pronounced the longer she spoke. And with each word, he became increasingly confused.

"Calleigh, I'm just trying to give us some, oh, I don't know," he sighed, feeling exasperated. "Some boundaries, I guess. And I figured you could use a break once in awhile since you have her all the time you're not at work. I want to do my share when I can," he tried before she cut him off.

"I know what you're doing, and I know why," she interrupted.

"Then help me out here, cause I don't know what the problem is," he admitted, plopping back into the chair with a heavy sigh.

"I miss you. I miss you being around," she said very softly, avoiding his gaze. Soft, but not without impact, the words hung in the air between them as he slowly digested their meaning.

"I miss you, too," he echoed. The words spilled out before he could hold them back, but pride, anger and a host of other emotions quickly rose to the surface in their wake. "That's how it's supposed to be. It's not supposed to be like I still live there. That's what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked, abruptly raking his hands through his hair. "Nothing's changed. You asked me to leave. We're getting a divorce," he added with finality.

"I never rescheduled the appointment," she said, catching him off-guard. He stared, blinking several times before speaking.

"You haven't?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise. She quickly shook her head. "I've been waiting for you to tell me when our appointment is, and you haven't even scheduled it?" he asked, sounding aggravated. Although to be fair, he was relieved by the news, and probably more mystified than anything else. "Why not?"

"You're upset," she said or asked, he wasn't sure, only that she looked upset.

"No, I'm not, trust me. A little surprised, and a lot confused, but not upset," he answered honestly, his earlier aggravation now in check.

"Okay," she said, going no further and staring skeptically at him.

The silent staring was making him antsy. He dropped her gaze, and focused on the tabletop of photographs instead. "Why are you putting off the appointment?" he asked, when no answer was forthcoming. He didn't like being clueless. Now he knew firsthand how she felt being left in the dark for so long, which only served to heighten his guilt.

She laughed nervously. "I wish I was clear on that myself. Let's just say it seemed more and more like a mistake we'd be making, to rectify a mistake I thought we'd made, that maybe wasn't the mistake I had begun to think it was. And this isn't a mistake either of us wants to make. That, I am certain of." She spoke rapidly in a heavy drawl that left his head spinning.

"I'm not sure exactly what you're saying is a mistake or isn't a mistake. Is splitting up a mistake?" he asked, completely baffled.

"I'm saying that the one thing I'm very clear about is that neither of us wants to get this wrong. That, and I miss you," she said with a small smile. "So to answer your question, yes, maybe it would be a mistake," she sighed. He followed suit with a heavy sigh of his own as he let her words sink in.

_Maybe it would be a mistake_. The words played over and over in his head. _But what exactly does that mean?_ He scrunched his brow, ignoring the pain it caused. "So, maybe it's a mistake and maybe it's not? Do you not know which?" he asked, feeling his frustration rise again. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it when it became clear someone was knocking at the door. "Calleigh?" he asked, still waiting for an answer.

"Your door," she pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grumbled, fishing for the money he'd taken out earlier. "Damn perfect timing," he muttered under his breath. "Damn perfect."

tbc


	5. Hesitation

Shades of Gray

Hesitation

Quickly closing the distance between himself and the door, he yanked the twenty out of his pocket and fumbled with the jammed lock in one fluid motion. Barely making eye contact with the disheveled looking guy who reeked of cigarettes, he grabbed the pizza and handed him the money without waiting for his change. With the size of that tip, he'd just contributed to the guy's smoking habit and probably bought him a beer as well, he thought to himself as he kicked the door shut behind him. He tossed the small pizza onto the tiny counter and headed back to the chair. Calleigh had gotten off the couch and was staring out the window, probably enjoying the view of junk cars lining the street, he thought sarcastically.

"Did you want to eat now?" she asked as he stood by the chair.

"No, not really hungry. I never offered you anything. You want something to drink?" he asked, trying vainly to keep from sounding as impatient as he felt.

"No, thanks," she answered, smiling sweetly, but offered nothing else. She moved back to the couch, stopping once more to look at the pictures he'd framed.

"Calleigh, about what we were talking about. You care to explain a little more, about whether this divorce is a mistake or not? Cause I'm still pretty confused about what you're trying to tell me," he said in a low, even voice. Glancing at the chair, he mentally debated sitting or standing. His headache made the choice for him and he settled into the chair as she did the same across the room from him.

"The other day, when we talked after our missed appointment, you said I liked everything to be black and white," she began, pulling the words out of nowhere, it seemed. "You were right about that. It's why I like my job, why I'm so good at it. It's easy when the evidence is clear-cut and there's no room to spin, alter, or question it to suit your needs. Relationships and feelings, though, they lend themselves to all of the above," she sighed deeply. "Do you remember you asked me why I married you?" It was a moment before he caught up to the question. Not waiting for an answer or sign of recognition, she continued. "And I didn't really answer?" Swallowing hard, he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Would this always remain a touchy subject, no matter how many times they covered it? They'd never be able to alter the circumstances under which they made their vows, leaving him to wonder if the doubts would ever vanish completely. That he loved her deeply was unquestionable, but at the time of their marriage, he hadn't yet figured that out and they both knew it.

"I remember," he sighed, staring intently at the floor, wishing he knew then what he knew now.

"I could've written a list of well thought out reasons why getting married then was in neither of our best interests. Instead, I went with something else entirely. Do you remember when I had the flu?" she asked without missing a beat.

"Huh?" His head snapped up at yet another question that came seemingly from out of the blue. "I don't follow," he said, arching his brow in confusion, despite the discomfort it caused.

"Before we found out about Ali," she answered as if that explained all, which it did.

"Oh, yeah," he responded, nodding his head, comprehending. "The whole reason we ended up with Ali," he added and couldn't help but smile remembering when a bout of the flu couldn't keep them apart, despite their best intentions. Ironic really, he mused, how the one time they should've stayed apart, ended up tying them together for a lifetime.

"Mmm," she agreed, smiling with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I was sick as a dog. I very clearly told you I wasn't up for company, but you came over anyway."

"I wasn't planning to stay," he defended, although that wasn't completely the truth.

"Humph. I dragged myself out of bed to answer the door looking like week old leftovers, and there you were holding pints of ice cream," she said, shaking her head. "Do you recall why you brought an assortment of flavors?" she asked playfully.

"I remember. I wasn't sure which flavor to get," he said sheepishly, unsure where this was going.

"Exactly," she said with a flourish, waving both hands to make her point. "We had been together for over eight months, Tim. Eight months," she repeated, her eyes wide as they locked onto his. "Yet you had no clue what kind of ice cream I liked. Like you had never seen me eat ice cream before!" He groaned while she seemed oddly delighted by this revelation. "You, who catalogues and remembers incredible amounts of intricate information in that head of yours, and who observes absolutely everything, can be blind to the most basic things." The exasperation she must have felt then was still evident in her voice all this time later. "That you didn't know something so simple about me should've spoken volumes about the future of our relationship, and it did, but not what you might think." She paused still holding his gaze. "There were glimmers beneath the surface of someone… someone you didn't show very often, but I saw them. And honestly, what was going on between us, felt a whole lot more than just sleeping together. We never talked about it, but deep down, I knew." She probably realized a lot more than he did, he thought while he waited for her to continue. "What I saw, standing in my doorway that night, was a guy with a lot of ice cream and a box of brightly colored ice pops, who was no more going to stay away, than tell me how he felt. It wasn't what you did and it certainly wasn't what you said, but who you were, and what we were to each other. That's what I saw and that's what I knew. When the time came to make a decision, I didn't need a list."

"All that from ice cream?" he smirked, hoping to lighten the emotion filling the room. "It was probably a good thing then that I brought a lot of it."

"Probably," she laughed. "If you remember I ate half a pint and promptly threw up. That was delightful. And I all but begged you to leave, but you didn't."

"I couldn't leave you, you were sick. If you needed anything, I wanted to be there," he shrugged.

"I know, you left me only to go to work," she recalled with a nostalgic smile. "Then I shocked us by turning up pregnant. Maybe then you thought about leaving, at least in the beginning, but you didn't," she said, her voice now serious. "Same thing when Ali was born. You were overwhelmed, we both were, but you didn't leave. And all these months later, when I asked you to move out of the house, even then, you didn't leave, not really," she paused, taking a deep breath. "Well, obviously you did," she said, waving her hand around the apartment, "but not the way you could have. And I don't think I ever really wanted you to." She shook her head and he could see the tears that were close to the surface. "But when we came home from the hospital, that's all I saw, you leaving, or just wanting to leave. And I decided that maybe I had been wrong about us all along."

"Wrong about us, or just wrong about me?" he asked, sounding both angry and hurt at the same time. He knew what she meant by that. Needing to move, he hopped out of the chair, and began to pace. Her assumption that he was the kind of person who would cheat on his wife, on _her_, still rankled. And even though he'd given her reason to doubt his intentions, he didn't think he'd given her reason to doubt his character. Or had he? Was doubt, doubt no matter how you tried to spin it, he wondered?

"I was wrong, Tim, what I let myself think about you. And that's what troubles me most. Maybe some things can be murky, or fall into the gray zone, as you call it, but _that_ shouldn't. I shouldn't have questioned you, or ever thought it was a possibility. I'm so sorry that I did, probably more than you know," she said in a voice that rang with sorrow.

"I thought you had more faith in me than that," he countered, not hiding the fact that her doubt of his fidelity still stung.

"I did… I do," she said sounding defeated. Slumping further into the cushions, she hugged her arms tightly. "After Ali was discharged from the hospital, I wanted everything to go back the way it was. I wanted my happy, healthy baby back. I wanted our life back," she sighed. "But nothing was the way it used to be, least of all us. I was in a constant state of anxiety, and I don't think I recognized how close to the edge we all were. I put all my energy into Ali and I think I just lost sight of you," she said sadly, lowering her head. "All I knew was that you were slipping further and further away. I assumed you wanted out, and that hurt. I hadn't been able to prevent any of the pain Ali experienced in the hospital, but I wasn't about to let anything else hurt her. Not if I could help it," she said with determination.

Her words cut deep, but as he listened, the details that emerged provided a clearer picture. For if he knew anything about his wife, it was that she possessed an innate single-mindedness that was matched in its ferocity only by her devotion to her family. And nowhere was that devotion more apparent than in her love for her daughter. "Or anyone else? Meaning me?" he asked, although he didn't need confirmation, he already knew the answer. She nodded slowly, while biting down on her lip.

"If you were going to leave us, then I wanted it done quickly and cleanly. Like that would somehow make it painless for all involved. The thing is, Tim, I couldn't be angry at you for wanting out; especially since you were in a situation you never wanted in the first place. But an affair? _That_ was something I could be angry about. And I think I wanted to be angry, maybe even needed to be. Anger was something I could control, and at that point, there was very little in my life that I felt in control of. I don't think I was protecting Ali from hurt, as much as I was protecting myself," she said, stopping to take a deep breath. She looked, just then, like the words had taken more out of her than her breath.

Needing the physical proximity, he strode to the couch, and carefully sat on the end, close, but not too close. "Calleigh, you have to know how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you. I love you," he said in a low, soothing voice as he held her eyes in his. "I kept my distance so I _wouldn't_ hurt you. I got it all wrong, and ended up hurting you anyway," he said, exhaling sharply and shaking his head. "I didn't see what my absence was doing to you until it was too late. I wanted our life back, too. I just didn't get to where I needed to be until it was too late." She nodded slightly, but he didn't yet see the understanding he'd hoped for. Instead, he saw only doubt and pain.

"But it was you who were hurting and I was completely blind to that. How could I not see what was right in front of me? How could I read you so wrong?" she asked, her bewilderment present both in her voice and expression. "When you did finally try to talk to me, I wouldn't listen. I never gave you a chance. Instead, I let a rumor dictate my actions. That goes against everything I know, everything I believe in. I gave up on our marriage," she said with a sad finality, dropping her chin and lowering her eyes.

"Cal, please don't blame yourself, you were under a lot of stress. Ali was your focus. She's bounced back the way she has _because_ of the all attention you gave her. Attention you gave her no matter how depleted you were, and without any help from me. I don't blame you for not knowing what was going on in my head. You couldn't know because I didn't want you to. You were confused and hurting. I never should've left you feeling abandoned the way I did. And I really don't know how to apologize for that," he said in a choked voice.

He fidgeted restlessly. One twitch led to another, a veritable domino effect of movement he couldn't control. In contrast, his wife sat quietly with her head lowered, and her hands folded in her lap. Absently, she twisted her wedding ring repeatedly, the only outward sign of her unease. His eyes were riveted to the simple gold band she still wore.

As for his left ring finger, it remained bare. He'd felt no compelling need to adorn it with the expected symbol of commitment and fidelity. _I don't wear jewelry_ was his succinct response, when she'd asked if he desired a wedding ring. Expecting an argument, he'd compiled a laundry list of reasons explaining why he was opposed to the hardware, everything from the weak, _I'd probably only lose it_, to the possibly plausible, _It will get in the way of my job_, but in the end she respected his choice without fuss. Now he wondered if his opposition was really about the ring, or what it stood for.

Fascinated by her rhythmic motions, his mind flashed back to the hurried vows they'd made at City Hall, three months before Ali's birth. Clearly they'd had no clue how strongly those words, along with their wavering belief in the rightness of what they were doing, would be tested. Numbed by the turn his life had unexpectedly taken, he'd stumbled through his wedding in a daze. Fitting then, that it took the shadow of dissolution for him to realize exactly what those vows he'd stammered meant to him. It had taken time for him to fully appreciate how his new life completed him, whereas the emptiness that marked his separation was instantaneous. Quite like the difference between a slow, soft kiss that builds in shivery intensity, and getting clocked in the side of the head with a heavy object.

It shouldn't take a knock upside the head or packing his bags, for him to admit how much he needed her, but apparently it did. And judging from his wife's despondent expression, she needed him as well, although he was fairly certain such an admission wouldn't be forthcoming from her any time soon. He, however, could admit he wanted his wife back, and that was as black and white a statement as could be. Her soft voice pulled him from his head before he could get the words out.

"We really messed things up, didn't we?" The resignation in her voice told him she wasn't looking for validation of this observation. "You know what I miss the most?" she asked, looking up and meeting his eyes. She smiled slightly. Arching an eyebrow, he looked at her quizzically, biting back the wince the movement caused. "Making your coffee." This wasn't the answer he'd hoped for. Her coffee wasn't even that good. Laughing lightly, after accurately reading his bemused expression, she continued. "I know it's probably not what you might expect, but that's what I miss most," she said, still smiling. "Starting the day with you. There's just something very nice about knowing I'm the only one who makes your coffee." It wasn't, _I love you_, but it was close enough for him. He missed her coffee in theory; in reality, he drank it more out of habit, but her? He missed her from the moment he opened his eyes till he dropped into a fitful sleep on the lumpy, uncomfortable sofa. It was heartening to think maybe she felt the same.

"Cal, do you want a divorce?" he asked without prompt. She visibly stiffened, then relaxed before sighing deeply.

"No. No, I don't," she said softly, shaking her head. He breathed deeply, and taking his cue from her, relaxed his posture also. They weren't out of the woods, but her answer gave them a new place to start. If he never had to step foot in that mediator's office again, it would still be too soon. Her response gave him the first reason to feel optimistic in a long time. "But Tim," she began before letting the thought trail and biting down on her lip instead. "It's not that simple," she said, starting again. "Not wanting a divorce is not the same as deciding we should stay married."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't mean you're ready to give up on us either," he said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"No, I guess I'm not. It would, I think, be better for Ali if we tried again…" she hesitated. "But at the same time, I'm not sure anymore. What happens to us the next time we face a crisis?" she asked, looking at him with disillusioned eyes.

"I don't know," he sighed, feeling the weight of her question square on his shoulders. It was his fault she doubted his love for her, and it was his fault she'd been disillusioned the way she had. Now it was up to him to convince her that their marriage was worth salvaging. And not just because it was best for Ali, but because it was best for the two of them. "We did figure out the marriage thing once, Cal. We were happy, if you remember. We didn't just wake up one morning and decide we didn't want this anymore," he said squinting at her pensive look. "There were a lot of other things going on at the time. We got off track," he paused taking in her new expression of disbelief, and chuckled. "Okay," he said with exasperation. "We got _way_ off track and ended up on opposite ends of the city. With you ending up on the nicer side, I might add," he smirked, motioning to his current surroundings to make his point. "But I think we can do this. I know I'm miserable without you, and I'm willing to do what it takes to make things right," he admitted honestly. She opened her mouth to counter, but he stopped her with a finger to her soft lips. "And, I'm willing to wait as long it takes."

"Okay," she relented, her expression softening. "You do, in fact, look miserable. But I'm not sure if that's the headache you're trying to pretend for my benefit, that you don't have, or if it's because you live in a place that looks like it could be inhabited by rats," she gently teased, but there was no mistaking the concern in her voice.

"I'm miserable because we're living on opposite sides of the city," he said, knowing full well he was busted about the headache he'd been trying to hide.

"Me, too," she sighed. "And the head?" she asked, reaching towards him and gently smoothing his hair away from his wound. Leaning into her touch, he momentarily closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her fingertips on his skin.

"The head's okay," he lied, knowing she wouldn't believe him.

"Did they give you something to take for it?" she asked, ignoring his answer. He nodded. "Will you take it now please, before I go, so I'll know you're going to get some sleep? I worry about you enough as it is," she said, getting off the couch and moving into the kitchen. "I don't like having to leave you here alone, but I do have to get back and relieve Daddy. He's probably exhausted from trailing after his adorable grandbaby and picking up blocks and stuffed animals all afternoon," she said laughing, rooting around his cupboard for a clean glass. "Have you noticed how she tends to leave all sorts of debris and disarray in her wake? A trait she did _not_ inherit from me, mind you," she said smugly.

"She's not even two, she's supposed to be messy," he defended, fishing the pill bottle from his jacket pocket and taking out two of the tablets.

"Mmm. I'm not sure that's all it is," she teased.

"Oh really?" he asked. "How about that willful, stubborn streak of hers? That _I want to do it right now and I want to do it by myself _trait? That's all yours," he countered, accepting the glass of water she'd handed him.

"If you say so_ Mr. I don't have a headache, I only wince every time my eyes move and pretend it doesn't hurt_," she laughed.

"I'm not that bad," he said, biting back a smile.

"Yeah, you are," she smiled. "So, why don't you eat some of your pizza before it's ice cold, then get some shuteye. And I will try to convince our daughter that one bedtime story is enough, while she tries to convince me that Daddy reads two," she said, looking at him with a pair of accusing green eyes.

"Guilty as charged," he chuckled. "It's probably a good thing then that she can't actually count or I'd really be in trouble with you." She laughed and the sound was music to his ears. "Give her a goodnight kiss for me?" he asked.

"I always do. So… what do we do now, Tim? What exactly happens with us?" she asked with uncertainty.

"Don't know. Guess we figure it out as we go along. Like we always did in the past. We just had to get in the same place, and want the same thing before that could happen this time," he suggested with a shrug.

"Okay," she agreed. "That sounds like a plan. I'm glad we want the same thing. I think about Ali and what a miracle it is that she's even here, and I just think that this is how it's supposed to be, you know? Us, together, raising our daughter." Her eyes shimmered in the dim light as she met his gaze and held it. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming, but he would wait, for as long as it took for them to be back on course, because she was worth it.

"Me, too. Drive carefully, okay? And make sure you lock up after your father leaves," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

"Tim, I'm a trained officer. I should think I can manage," she said, slightly indignant.

"I know, but I still worry about the two of you. I can't help it," he shrugged, feeling slightly woozy from the effects of the long day and the blow to his head.

"You're forgiven. Goodnight Sweetie. Get some sleep," she said warmly, making her way to the door. "You'll be in tomorrow?"

"Yeah, late morning. Can you tell the sitter I'll probably stop by to see Ali on my way in?" he asked, opening the door for her.

"I will. Your daughter will be delighted. She's missed you." The words brought a small smile to his lips. "And I'll warn her about your owie," she said, pointing to his head. He nodded, he'd forgotten about his shiner. "Tim, would you…" she hesitated. "Would you like to come by after work and have dinner with us?"

"Uh, yeah, I would. You sure?" he asked, slightly doubtful. She nodded, smiling. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Night Cal."

"Night Tim."

tbc


	6. Anticipation

Shades of Gray

Anticipation

Glancing up from the page, he noticed the finger placed on her lips to still him and nodded slightly. He was only halfway through the second reading of Ali's favorite bedtime story, but she was already out cold. Not that he was surprised; she had to have been exhausted after running around the park all evening. Tim was ready to pass out just from trailing after her. Where such a tiny, little girl got that much energy, he could only imagine. Had to be from her mother, he thought, noting that his wife looked as fresh now as she did earlier in the day. He dropped a kiss on top of the soft, dark curls resting against his chest, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo as he did. Relaxed, he sank further into the cushions, in no hurry to put her down for the night.

"You ready for me to take her?" Calleigh asked softly.

"Nah," he shook his head. "Not just yet." Despite creeping exhaustion and a lingering headache from yesterday's meeting with a flashlight, he was in no hurry to head back to his hole of an apartment. The tender expression Calleigh answered him with conveyed her understanding. For now, he was content to bask in the quiet with his little one snuggled in his arms and his wife by his side. It had been far too long since they'd felt like a family, and tonight had gone far in giving that back to him. And to Calleigh as well, he thought as he studied the contented look she wore. "She wore herself out tonight," he said, motioning with his head to the sleeping bundle in his lap.

"You look pretty worn out yourself. I was wondering which of you would drop first tonight," she said, laughing lightly.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I had no idea trailing after her and a ball could be such a workout. She really thinks she's hot stuff with all the new things she can do," he said, chuckling.

"Mmm… seems she not the only one," she replied, looking amused. "You should've seen your face when she threw that ball to you."

"She did okay… for a girl," he replied with a smirk.

"Is your head okay? Maybe you overdid it a little tonight?" she asked, now eyeing him with concern.

"Nah, I'm okay. The headache's not so bad," he admitted, knowing it was no use trying to hide it from her. "If it gets any worse, I'll take something before I turn in. Hey Cal, I've been thinking," he started, needing to move off the subject of his headache, which undoubtedly wasn't going to be aided by another night of sleeping alone. "What do you think about us putting a swing set in the backyard? I know the playground is close to the house, but it would be nice for her to be able to have swings right here, especially on those days when there's not enough time to take her to the park."

"I think that's probably a good idea," she readily agreed. "She does like the playground, though. I think she likes being around the other kids," she added.

"Yeah, I know. We can still take her there," he hesitated. "But I still think it would be nice to have our own swing set. You know, she really doesn't like the baby swings anymore. She only wants to go on the bigger swings," he said with a wariness he couldn't mask.

"Well Tim, that's because she's not a baby anymore," she said in a tone that suggested that much should be obvious, even to him.

Quirking a brow at his wife's unexpected comment, he looked down at his tiny daughter asleep with her thumb in her mouth. Her treasured bunny was tucked securely under her arm, and she clasped his long ear tightly in her fist. He didn't know what Calleigh was thinking, but being able to string a couple words together, drink pretend tea out of a plastic teacup, and throw a ball, didn't make her such a big girl in his book. "Well, she's still my baby," he defended.

Shaking her head in amusement, she surprised him by leaning over and softly kissing his cheek. "And she always will be," she said with a knowing smile. "But right now this baby is off to her bed," she said, gently scooping her from his arms. He followed her off the couch and down the hall to Ali's pink and white bedroom, a room he'd barely finished painting before she'd made her unexpected early appearance.

Standing by Calleigh's side while she placed the still sleeping bundle into her crib, he bid a silent thank you that they had all gotten through the last few months, before turning to his wife. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?" she asked, looking confused.

"Everything. Her. Tonight. Not rescheduling the appointment. Everything," he shrugged, finding the right words failing him.

"You're welcome," she smiled. "For all of it. We really do have a good deal to be thankful for," she said, glancing back down into the crib. "And I'm happy you're here. We've missed having you around. _I've_ missed you. Tonight was nice… really nice."

"Yeah, it was," he echoed, feeling a warmth spread through him, both from her nearness and her admission. There was an unexpected ease found in slipping back into the threesome they'd become after Ali's birth and his eventual warming to marriage and fatherhood. His relief that they hadn't lost a step was almost palpable and left him wondering if perhaps she'd felt it, too. Unfortunately, they still had a ways to go before their marriage was back on track. A barrier constructed with mistrust and miscommunication had left them wary. They were parents together, but not partners. Time, he hoped, would allow them to re-establish their connection as partners, and break down the invisible wall that had divided them.

"Help me in the kitchen?" she asked expectantly. Jarred from his thoughts, he nodded and followed her into the sunny yellow kitchen. "You have the early call out tomorrow?"

"Yeah, which means I'll probably finish up early. What do you think about going to look at some swing sets when I get done?" he asked as they began clearing the dishes off the table.

"Would you mind a little shoe shopping at the same time?" she asked after a moment's thought.

He frowned at the thought of shoe shopping with Calleigh; an experience he knew could turn into an hours long quest. "Uh, yeah, okay. We could work that in," he replied, easing the crease in his brow. There was little he wouldn't do to please her, and that included shoe shopping.

"Not for me," she laughed. "For Ali. Although, I do love shopping for shoes."

"I know," he groaned. "I remember well. A quest that lasts for hours and ends with you buying the very first pair you tried on," he teased affectionately.

"I think you're exaggerating, just a bit," she said, grinning.

"Not by much," he smirked. "I only pray Ali didn't inherit that shoe thing of yours."

"She already loves trying on my shoes, so I wouldn't get my hopes up about that," she replied smugly.

"Just my luck," he scoffed, handing her the last of the dishes. "Would you like to grab a bite to eat after? I'm sure we can find someplace with grilled cheese on the menu," he said, knowing well his daughter's limited food preferences.

"I'd like that," she said eagerly. "Thanks for helping in here. I can finish up the rest."

"My pleasure. So, I'll call you before I swing by tomorrow, okay?" he asked, sidling up beside her at the counter.

"Sounds good. Do you want anything else to eat?" she asked.

"Nah. Thanks anyway. I'm still stuffed from your dinner, which was very good by the way," he said, giving her both a compliment and a smile. They both leaned back against the counter, neither in a rush to end the evening. This was what their life had been like before Ali's hospitalization, all except for the tension her physical proximity caused. And right now, she was close enough for him to feel the heat from her body, which effectively ratcheted up his unease tenfold. He'd been physically apart from her for far too long, and it was steadily taking its toll. Being this close required a self-control that was near depleted, but there was nothing he could do about it. As much as he longed for her, he wasn't willing to chance a wrong move. In her eyes, he could still see hesitancy, and until she was certain, he'd have to find reserves of self-control wherever he could. That, plus frequent ice cold showers, the very thought of which caused an involuntary shudder. Or maybe that was from the way her fingers just brushed against his hip when she shifted position. _She probably did that on purpose, just to torture me. A person shouldn't want another person's hand on their hip quite this badly. It isn't healthy. What am I saying? Going without for this long isn't healthy. I could take her right here. Hell, I _have_ taken her right here. _

"Tim?"

Jarred from the conversation in his head, he blinked several times in confusion. "Huh?"

"Thought I'd lost you there for a moment," she said, looking at him slyly with widened eyes as if mind reading was a newly acquired skill of hers.

"I should, uh, probably think about heading out," he stammered, lowering his eyes.

"Oh, okay," she said sounding disappointed and infusing him with the teeniest amount of hope. "I forgot you have to get up early. I'm pretty tired myself. Do you have everything you need?" she asked as she grabbed a paper towel, spayed it with cleaner and began wiping down the counter, dashing his glimmer of hope as quickly as she'd sparked it.

"Yeah, I do. Uh, Calleigh, before I forget, I was wondering if you had heard about that new restaurant that opened in the fish market a couple months ago?" he asked, swallowing hard. His nervousness came as a surprise, especially in light of the fact that he'd just asked her practically the same question a few minutes earlier. The difference, though, was that tomorrow was dinner with Ali, at a place where crayons were served along with the drinks. But _this_, this was an actual _date_ he was attempting to ask her for and the stakes were much higher.

"Ooh, I read about that place. It's already booked solid for the next three months. They're supposed to have fabulous seafood, and one of the city's better new chefs," she answered enthusiastically. He nodded, swallowing hard.

"Yeah. I heard about the place from Jimmy, remember him?" he asked. Noting her confused expression, he hastened to add, "from the bike shop?"

"Umm, maybe," she answered after a moment. "Guy with longish hair, obsessed with his bike and thinks he's very charming?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "That would be him. A cousin of his owns the place."

"Oh," she said with interest. "Someone you've met?"

"I think once, long time ago, though. Anyway, Jimmy said anytime I wanted a table to just give him a call. Said just a few hours notice would be sufficient. So, I wondered if you might be interested in checking it out sometime. You know, if you, uh, could get a sitter some night," he stammered. "We could go together." Feeling her eyes on him, he dropped his gaze to the floor and shifted his weight back and forth. Reluctantly, he looked back up and met her amused green eyes head on.

"Tim, did you just ask me on a date?" she asked, making no attempts to hide her amusement.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I did," he answered sheepishly,

"Okay. I just wanted to be certain," she teased with a grin. "I would love to go to dinner with you. I'll call Maggie tomorrow. When I get her scheduled, I'll give you a call, okay?"

"Okay," he answered, relieved. He could only hope he wasn't going to be this nervous on their actual date; she was his wife after all, not someone he'd just met.

Her call came the next morning, a lot sooner than he expected. "Hang on," he said to Delko after checking the caller ID. "Hey. How are you?" he asked after flipping open his phone.

"Good morning. We're both fine. Are you in the middle of something?" Calleigh asked brightly.

"Just about to head out again. Did you need anything?" he answered, mindful of the curious stares emanating from his impatient partner.

"No, I just wanted to tell you I reached Maggie this morning. How does Friday sound for going out?" she asked. He could hear the delighted anticipation in her voice and found it infectious.

"Sounds perfect. What time, seven, seven-thirty?" he asked, biting back a grin.

"Either's fine. I'll tell Maggie six-thirty just to be safe," she said.

"Okay. I'll ask for a seven-thirty reservation. That'll give us plenty of time," he suggested.

"I can't wait. We'll still be seeing you tonight?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I'll pick you up when I leave here, but I'll give ya a call first," he answered.

"Okay, sounds good. Have a good day. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

"See ya later. Bye," he said before clicking off and hooking the phone back on his hip. "You ready?" he asked Delko, who was still eyeing him curiously.

"Yeah man, I'm just sitting here waiting for you. Sounds like you were making a date of some sorts," he said, clearly interested in finding out more.

Tim sighed heavily. If Delko thought he was making a date, he was never going to hear the end of it. To the best of his knowledge, Eric was unaware that he and Calleigh were reconciling, and he had a sneaking suspicion that that particular cat was about to jump out of its bag. "So if you're ready, then why are we still sitting here?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"So were you?" Eric persisted, apparently not to be deterred.

"Was I _what_?" Tim asked, knowing full well what Delko was after.

"Making a date," Eric answered, eyeing Tim carefully.

"If you have to know everything, then yes, I was confirming a date. Happy now? Can we drop it and get out of here before the crime scene goes cold?" Tim asked with exasperation.

"Yeah, okay," Eric answered, not hiding his disappointment and making no move to get off his stool.

"What?" Tim asked, quirking a brow at his friend. Recognizing the disappointment for what it was, he was secretly pleased knowing Delko was upset at the thought of him dating. He'd been supportive of Tim and Calleigh's relationship from the onset, well, at least after the initial shock wore off. It was to Delko's that Tim went when he first moved out of the house. Good friend to both, Eric stayed out of their problems, but never hid the fact that he hoped they'd work everything out.

"Nothing," Eric shrugged. "I guess I'm just surprised is all. I didn't think you were interested in dating," he shrugged again. "Anyone I know?"

"Yeah, actually, it is. I have a date with my daughter's mother," Tim deadpanned and watched as the recognition washed over his buddy's face.

Eric snorted with relieved laughter. "You're dating your wife, then?" he asked, now grinning like a fool.

"Yeah, I'm dating my wife," Tim chuckled, shaking his head.

"So, let's see if I've got this straight, the two of you got involved, had a kid, got married…" Eric began.

"No, we got married before the kid," Tim interrupted to correct.

"Barely," Eric admonished. "Okay, you got together, got married, _barely_ before the kid, got separated, and now you're going to try dating? Have I got that right?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Tim admitted. "Your point?" he asked sarcastically.

"Better late than never, I guess," Eric laughed. "Since you've been out of the dating world for awhile, I'll be happy to offer you some pointers."

"I think I can handle dating. She is my wife after all," Tim answered wryly. He certainly wasn't going to admit to his buddy just how nervous he actually was.

"Okay, but you know where to find me if you change your mind," Eric offered as he headed for the door.

"I'll bear that in mind," Tim called to his back as he followed him out.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of activity, mostly work related, which was a good thing since it kept his mind off his impending date. After their night of shopping and dinner, he'd had very little free time. By the time Friday rolled around, he was more than ready for a night alone with his wife. He was also filled with a restless apprehension that even a pre-date beer couldn't lessen.

"Hi Daddy!" Ali squealed as he let himself into the kitchen. Narrowing his eyes at his ice cream covered daughter, he approached the table cautiously, mindful of the splotches of melted dessert on the floor.

"Hi Ali," he said, dropping a kiss on the only clean spot he could find. "Hi Maggie," he nodded to their babysitter, a graduate student from their neighborhood. "I don't envy you cleaning this up tonight," he chuckled, shaking his head at the mess.

"Ice cream, Daddy?" Ali eagerly asked, waving her cone at him.

"No thank you, Baby," he said, smiling and taking a step back from her cone. "Where's Mama? I think I'll go find her while you finish your ice cream."

"Tim, is that you? Can you give me a hand?" Calleigh called as he approached the bedroom.

"Yeah, what do you need?" he answered, as he made his way into the room he soon hoped to be back sleeping in.

"Can you clasp this?" she asked, holding the ends of the delicate gold locket he'd given her on Ali's first birthday. "I've got cream on my hands and my fingers keep slipping."

"Sure," he said as he took the ends from her. She pulled her long, wavy locks out of the way exposing an expanse of creamy skin. Distracted by the feel of silky skin under of fingertips, he fumbled the clasp three times before finally getting it secured.

"Thank you," she said turning to face him. "Don't you look handsome tonight," she grinned, giving him an approving eye. He breathed a sigh of relief that his attire met her approval. "There is nothing I like better than you in a crisp white shirt," she drawled flirtatiously. "Especially when paired with a dark suit jacket. I like what I see," she said as she ran her palm over the front of the jacket.

"Calleigh, you look beautiful," he said, inhaling sharply and raking his eyes over her. "Really beautiful. That dress is perfect," he said, admiring the lilac colored sheath that hugged her curves.

"Well, thank you, again," she said, blushing under his intense stare. "And if I stay away from sticky fingers on the way out maybe it'll stay that way," she laughed.

"You ready?" he asked, shifting his weight back and forth.

"Not quite yet. Come here," she said seductively as she moved closer. Reaching her hands around his neck, she raised up on her toes until her lips found his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, as their bodies fit together like two pieces from the same puzzle. His lips caressed hers in a slow, shivery and satisfying kiss.

"What was that for?" he asked in a rough whisper when they reluctantly broke apart.

"Thought that might calm your nerves so we could enjoy our night out," she answered in a lazy drawl.

"Oh, okay, good thinking," he whispered against her lips as the tension melted away from his body.

And as she had a tendency to be, she was right on the money. That kiss set the stage for a very enjoyable and relaxing evening, as well as several more deeply satisfying kisses. Whatever he was nervous about failed to materialize. The conversation flowed effortlessly. They even managed to converse on topics other than their daughter or their jobs. Fortunately for him, Calleigh liked to talk while he was content to listen. He was happy just to have the opportunity to gaze into her eyes and hold her hand under the table. The evening's end found them kissing under the stars, in the not so very romantic setting of their side door walkway. Street sounds and neighbor's dogs punctuated their solitude, but neither paid any heed.

"Do you… do you want to come in?" she asked between kisses in a breathless voice.

Cupping both cheeks in his palms, he met her steady gaze with his own. That he wanted her desperately was undeniable, but it wouldn't be tonight. That she loved him, and had loved him all along, was unquestionable, but her eyes still harbored a glimmer of doubt. There would be no coming home until this specter of uncertainty no longer hung over them. And no sharing a bed until he was home to stay, even if it damn near killed him, which it likely would if this aching need he felt was any indication. "No," he sighed, kissing her softly. "Not tonight."

"No?" she asked, her body stiffening. Pulling back slightly, she looked up at him with confused, widened eyes. "You really don't want to? You don't want to stay?"

"No, that's not it," he answered, his hands still cupping her cheeks. "I do want to. I want you, more than you can imagine, but I'm not taking you to bed until there's no more doubt, until I'm home to stay. I love you Cal, but I'm not risking three people waking up confused in the morning."

"Tim, I love you, too," she started before he halted her with a knee-weakening kiss that left them both panting. In retrospect, it was probably not the wisest move to make while he was trying to put the breaks on their smoldering desire, but his control was slipping as his physical need for her grew.

"I know you do," he said, breathing heavily. "But we're not there yet. We can't make a mistake; we can't go through this again, neither of us can," he said with a heavy sigh. "We're almost there, but we need a little more time," he said, brushing his lips over hers and feeling his resolve steadily weaken.

"We're not making a mistake. I think we're okay," she said softly, but her eyes told a different story.

"You have to be certain," he said. Her body relaxed against his, and he knew she reluctantly agreed.

"I know you're right. We can't rush this. I don't want to make a mistake, but I'm so tired of living apart," she said into his chest.

Stroking her back, he sighed heavily and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Me, too, Cal. Me, too." Disappointed she agreed so readily, he still knew this decision, although not popular with either of them at the moment, would be for the best in the long run. They embraced with arms entwined for several long moments before he finally pulled away. "I hate being right," he said kissing her softly and tangling his fingers in her loose waves. "But if I'm heading out of here, I better do it now, while I can still stand under my own power," he said, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Okay, I guess I should go in and relieve Maggie now. I had a wonderful time tonight," she sighed.

"I did, too. Makes me wonder why we never dated before. You know, before we got married," he puzzled.

"Because you never asked me. You preferred staying in, if I recall," she answered, grabbing his collar and pulling him in for one more spine tingling kiss. "Sleep well, Sweetie," she said when they hesitantly pulled apart.

"You do know that's not possible, don't you?" he smirked. "But same to you. I'll call you in the morning. Goodnight."

tbc


	7. Realization

Shades of Gray

Realization

"Damn," he grumbled under his breath. Nothing about this day was turning out the way he'd planned, and judging by the snarled traffic ahead of him on the causeway, it wasn't about to improve. His anticipated romantic evening wining and dining his wife was looking to be a wash at this point and all because the quiet, half-day he expected to spend in the confines of his air-conditioned lab never materialized. Instead of an easy day processing evidence indoors, he was stuck sweating in the hot, insect infested Glades with the remains of a couple of gun shot vics the gators had feasted on. And that planned early afternoon exit from the lab? _Ha_, he snorted. Only by the good graces of Delko, who offered to hang back and sort through the rest of the evidence, did he manage to get out at all. _Humph_, _a lot of good that did_, he thought, frowning. He was now almost two hours late, he realized after a furtive glance at his watch. His coveted dinner reservation at one of the city's better restaurants, one famed for its elegant and romantic ambience, was history, leaving him now, a man without a plan.

Sighing heavily, his fingers drummed restlessly on the steering wheel as he contemplated his next move. Even without a reservation, there were still plenty of possible dinner options for a Friday night, no matter what the hour. This was Miami after all, a city well known for its nightlife. And even if it was a part of the Miami scene he didn't spend much time in anymore, unless, of course there was yellow crime scene tape surrounding it, he still ought to be able to locate a restaurant that didn't cater to the chicken nugget and grilled cheese crowd. He _had,_ after all, been single once, and even ventured out a time or two. Unfortunately, those distant memories weren't doing him much good right now.

_Delko_, he thought, _Delko will know where to go_. Although, come to think of it, Delko wasn't exactly known for wining and dining his ladies. The kind of place Delko was likely to suggest probably wasn't the kind of place he was looking to take his wife. Tonight was special, and his choice of venue was tantamount to setting the stage for the kind of evening he hoped to show her. Delko, more a player than a romancer, wouldn't be much help with that.

Not that Tim was one to talk. As far as Calleigh was concerned, he'd failed miserably in the dating department. At least in the past, with the few other women he'd briefly been involved with, he'd had the decency to take them to dinner, a club, or the occasional movie. With Calleigh, though, he'd never gone that route. He'd never properly courted her, and had no suitable explanation as to why. Never contemplated and never discussed, their pre marriage relationship simply evolved of its own accord. A chance after hours encounter led to an awkward next time, then another and another, until momentum, desire and need shepherded him to her doorstep almost every night. They shared occasional take-out meals, easy conversation, as long as she did most of the talking, and a bed, but date? Never. Yet despite the shortcomings in their undetermined relationship, there was an intimate connection between them that was stronger than friendship between coworkers and went a lot deeper than great sex. It also happened to be something he failed to recognize at the time.

But that was then, and this was now, and with failed realizations tucked safely in the past, his paramount goal for the present was to somehow salvage this evening. Despite the botched plans, dinner could still be managed, but the moonlit walk on the beach he'd planned wasn't likely if this evening's rain continued. There was nothing he could do about the lateness of the hour, or the weather, but at least he'd managed to dash home to shower and change. It ate precious time, but he was in no shape to go out looking and smelling the way he did. Plus, there was that small package he needed to pick up, tonight couldn't happen without it. Glancing down at his black button down and black trousers, he frowned. This wasn't the suit he'd originally planned on donning tonight, but wherever they were headed at this hour without a reservation, likely wouldn't require such fancy attire. It was disappointing, especially since he'd told her to dress up for the occasion, but like everything else out of his control today, there was little he could do.

He'd called Calleigh three times with the news he'd be late, and each time there was nothing but complete understanding on the other end of the phone. That sweet, agreeable drawl should've been enough to relax him, but tonight it only served to increase his overall guilt and anxiety. After all they'd been through, Calleigh deserved a special night, one that would leave her never again questioning his feelings. Pulling off such a full out romantic evening, however, was proving to be next to impossible.

Days at work turned into disasters in the blink of an eye, leaving evening plans a distant memory. _Just like tonight_, he thought. Or it was Ali who inadvertently threw a wrench in their plans; just as she had earlier in the week on the night he planned to surprise Calleigh with a moonlit dinner cruise. With Ali under the weather, and neither parent willing to leave her, plans were scrapped. Instead of being served gourmet food while cruising under the stars, they settled for take-out Italian and repeated readings of Ali's favorite bedtime stories. And if it wasn't work, or Ali, then it was a last minute babysitter cancellation. Groaning, he realized he was 0 for 3 in attempts at pulling off the elusive perfect date _just in the past week alone_. What would tonight bring, he wondered as he pulled into the drive?

"Calleigh?"he called as he let himself in through the side door.

"Right here," she answered, meeting him in the doorway and folding herself into his arms. Reaching for his lips, she kissed him, softly, effortlessly, effectively erasing all traces of the day's stresses and the evening's disappointing start.

"Mmm, you make it nice to come home," he sighed contentedly between kisses. "Where is everyone?" he asked, wondering why the house was so quiet. "I didn't see Maggie's car in the drive. Did she get a ride?" he asked curiously as he eyed his wife's unexpected stay home attire of tank top and casual slacks.

"She was here earlier, played with Ali and wore her out. I sent her home, told her I'd trade tonight for another night next week. I figured you might be tired," she explained with no hint of disappointment.

"But Cal, I wanted to take you out. I can't believe how this day has turned out," he grumbled with bitter disappointment. _0 for 4_, he thought regretfully.

"I know," she said soothingly. "We'll try another night. At least you're here now," she said, following with a kiss.

"Yeah, I guess," he said grudgingly against her lips. "What about dinner? Want me to pick something up?"

"Nope. Dinner's all taken care of. All you have to do is open the wine and bring it out to the porch," she said with a self-satisfied smile.

"You cooked? I didn't want you to have to cook tonight. This was supposed to be an evening out for you," he said, shaking his head and frowning.

"It's nothing, just some leftovers I threw together. Here," she said, handing him the wine bottle and a lighter. "Light the candles for me, I'll be right out."

"Wait a minute," he said quirking a brow at her. "The porch? You want to eat on the porch? Now? In the dark? In the rain?

"Mmm. It'll be nice. Besides, we won't be in the dark. There's a lamp and lots of candles," she said, grinning. "Now go," she shooed him off with a quick kiss and a playful shove.

Grumbling about rain and leftovers, he wandered onto the screened in porch. He was amazed as he looked around at the transformation of the previously unremarkable space. Bathed in the soft glow of the room's one lamp, the space looked cozy, yet elegant. The lace covered café table was beautifully arranged with candles, small vases of flowers and the good china. Ali's usual jumble of toys was nowhere to be found; instead the room was a haven of relaxed order and serenity.

"Watch out," she said as she placed a platter of hot food on a side table. "You hungry?"

"Yeah," he answered as he finished lighting the candles. "When did you do all this?" he asked, impressed and touched by her effort.

"While Maggie entertained Ali. I figured after the kind of day you had, that it might be nice to stay home and have a cozy supper right here. Is it okay out here? Would you rather go inside?" she asked hesitantly.

"No. No, this is nice," he said reassuringly, as he poured the wine, forgetting his earlier dubiousness. Because it was nice, although, to be honest, where he was no longer mattered now that they were together. Their dinner conversation flowed with ease, but he found his mind wandering, too easily distracted by the twinkle in her eyes, and the perfect fit of her hand in his.

"You want anything else?" she asked in her lilting drawl, grabbing his attention.

"No, thanks, I'm stuffed. I couldn't possibly eat another bite," he admitted, leaning back in his chair.

"See, leftovers aren't so bad when they're disguised a bit and served in the right atmosphere," she said with a grin.

"I don't know what you did to them, but they were much better the second time around," he said with bewildered honesty.

"Well, I'm not sure that's a compliment," she said with mock seriousness, "but under the circumstances, I'm going to take it as one.

"It is and rightfully earned. Dinner was excellent. I'm just sorry you had to go to the trouble when you were expecting to be taken out tonight," he said regretfully.

"I'm not," she said brightly, reaching for her wine glass and frowning once she realized it was empty.

Grabbing the bottle, he refilled both their glasses, earning an appreciative smile in the process. "You sure?" he asked, still not convinced.

"I'm sure. Come, sit with me, we can clean this up later," she said, motioning to the dishes before getting up and reaching for his hand. Taking her hand, along with his glass, he followed her to the old metal porch glider he'd rescued and brought back to life, after a back breaking weekend spent sanding and painting. Recalling her exuberant smile when he surprised her, just days ago, with this beloved relic from her childhood, it occurred to him that every once in awhile, he managed to do exactly the right thing. Now adorned with faded floral cushions and an old quilt reminiscent of her grandmother's, the old swing recalled happy times spent at her grandparent's home, during an otherwise turbulent childhood.

Settling into the cushions, he rested his head against the quilt, and wrapped an arm around her as she leaned against his chest. _I could stay like this forever_, he thought, closing his eyes and breathing in the familiar scent he recognized as simply Calleigh, a mix of clean and flowers and her. Under their combined weight, the glider rocked slowly. Her contented sigh as she snuggled deeper into his embrace brought a small smile to his lips. They certainly couldn't do this in any fancy restaurant, he wisely realized. The soothing motion combined with the rhythmic patter of the rain on the roof and the flickering of the candles carried him further into tranquility.

"I could stay like this forever," she sighed, breaking their silence and echoing his earlier sentiment. "If you stayed here with me, that is."

"I'm not going anywhere, Baby," he whispered, tightening his hold on her.

"I like the sound of that, cause I'm done with this living apart arrangement," she drawled while distracting him with feather light caresses up and down his arm. "It's been too long. I don't know what we're waiting for anymore. You've been so preoccupied these last few days, so I've held off saying anything, but I can't wait any longer. I just want you home."

"Wait, what did you say?" he asked, interrupting her when the words finally made a connection in his head.

Twisting in his arms, she turned to face him and her eyes were filled with a deep longing that mirrored his own. "I'm asking you to come home, Tim, to stay. I can't kiss you goodnight and close the door behind you one more night. Do you have any idea how very hard that is?" she asked, her voice an octave higher.

"Probably not as hard as it is for me to walk away," he quipped.

"Don't be so sure about that," she said with a sly smile. "So don't leave me tonight. I want you back in our bed. Permanently. And don't ask me if I'm sure, because I am. I am very, very sure.

"Calleigh," he sighed. "I want that, too, but I don't want there to be any question, any doubt," he added cautiously.

"There's none, I promise," she reassured with a certain smile. "But what about you?" she asked, her voice taking on a more serious tone as concern clouded her eyes. "Why are you hesitating? What aren't you telling me?" He stilled her probing questions with a finger to her lips followed by a kiss designed to dispel any doubts she might have about his intentions.

"I do want this… and you," he said breathlessly as he pulled away. "I love you," he said, lightly stroking her cheek with his fingertips.

"Then what?" she persisted. "Because I can't quite figure out this troubled look on your face. It's not exactly the reaction I'd imagined," she said as her intent gaze probed his.

Leaning back against the glider, he inhaled sharply. She could read him better than he remembered, and her assessment was spot on. He did still carry a doubt he couldn't shake; it just wasn't the one worrying her right now. Nonetheless, he owed her an explanation. "I'm not sure I've done all I should've," he began, lacking the words he needed to express what he couldn't put into words in the first place. "I know we've talked a lot, and we both understand how we got to the point we did, and maybe even why." He paused and she nodded for him to continue. "I didn't ever doubt that we'd be okay once we got back on track, and I knew for certain that you wanted our marriage to work."

"I do," she reassured with a certainty that left no room for doubt.

"When everything was unraveling and I wasn't sure about much of anything, I still knew I loved you. But _you_ didn't know that. The one thing you should've been able to count on and you couldn't. I let you down, and that worries me," he sighed. "I can try to be a better husband and I can try to be a better father, but I'm not sure I can possibly love you more than I already do. So what do I do to make sure you don't have to question that ever again? Cause I really don't know. I've been trying to show you, but I don't know if it's enough," he said, dropping his head, and sighing deeply. This vulnerability his wife and daughter reduced him to was a state he found himself in more often than was comfortable.

"Tim, there's nothing more you have to do. I do know how you feel," she said, gently lifting his chin. "Trust me, I _know_. You've been reassuring me since the day you moved out. And when I visited your apartment and I saw all those pictures that you'd put in frames..." Her voice faltered and she paused, but never dropped her eyes from his. "We're a family, we belong together. I could see that, I just needed to open my eyes," she said with a sincerity that penetrated his doubts. "That, and regain my footing. There's nothing more you have to do."

"I've been trying the past week or so to show you a really romantic evening. I thought if I could pull that off, then… Oh, I don't know what I thought," he said, scoffing at the thought that he could ever pull off a truly romantic evening in the first place.

"Leftovers on the porch wasn't quite what you had in mind?" she asked, gently teasing him.

"Hardly," he answered succinctly. "I'd hoped for something a little nicer, but I can't seem to get it to work out the way it's supposed to."

"Sometimes when you try too hard, you end up being disappointed. And then there's Ali, who doesn't exactly lend herself to romance," she snickered.

"Don't remind me," he said with an exasperated sigh.

"We know better than anyone how unpredictable life can be. Between our jobs, and our daughter, it's hard to make or keep any plans. But here, tonight, I'm not sure anything could be nicer than this," she said gently waving her hand around the candle and flower filled porch. "Romance isn't something you need to create with me, it's already there. It's in your eyes and in your touch. It's what I know, and what I feel when I'm with you," she said. His eyebrows rose questioningly at the conviction in her voice. "Tim, you could take me to Paris, and kiss me on top of the Eiffel Tower under a full moon, on a warm spring night, and I'm still going to close my eyes when I kiss you." Now he was really confused. Although the idea of Paris was a good one, even though it was something he'd never think of, and even if he did, it would undoubtedly be damn near impossible to pull off, he thought, frowning. "When you kiss me, I close my eyes, and it doesn't matter where I am," she explained, undoubtedly reading his befuddled expression. "I'm lost in your kiss, even if it's just for the briefest of moments. Paris would simply disappear…" she said as her lilting drawl trailed off and a small contented smile crept onto her lips. "Whether it's leftovers on the porch, or an evening in Paris, the only ingredient I need for romance, is you," she said before her lips swiftly found his. This time it was his turn to lose himself in a kiss designed to dispel any lingering doubts. "Convinced?" she asked, as her lips hovered excruciatingly close to his.

"Getting there," he answered, before recapturing her lips. And she was right, as she usually was about these things. It didn't matter where he was; his only awareness was of the taste and feel of her lips and the way her body melted into his. "You're right, this night has been romantic," he acknowledged.

"And I can only think of one thing that might make this night even nicer," she whispered, kissing a path to his ear.

"And what's that?" he asked, his own lips making their way down her neck before settling into the hollow above her collarbone.

"Stay," she softly moaned.

"I'm thinking about it. Maybe you should try asking me again," he teased playfully. Pulling away from him, she sat up briskly and held his shoulders at arm's length.

"You're _thinking_ about it? That the best you can do?" she asked with feigned annoyance.

"Yup," he answered with a smirk. "Now where were we exactly when you asked me the first time? Oh, I remember, we were like this," he said as he turned her away so her back was against his front. Settling back against the cushion, he reached an arm across her and gently pressed her against her chest. He used his foot to push against the floor beginning a slow rocking motion.

"Tim," she protested, but he shushed her with a finger to her lips.

"Shush. Let's just enjoy this," he suggested in a low soft voice. Holding her close against his chest, he stroked her bare arm and dropped kisses against her hair until he felt her body relax against his. In the quiet of the moment, all he could hear was the sound of their breathing against the backdrop of the lightly falling rain. Shadows danced along the walls, and the candles cast their glimmering glow. He closed his eyes and allowed the rest of the world to fall away, feeling nothing but the comfort and warmth of her body against his. Calleigh had given them a perfect romantic evening, no reservations or plane tickets required. When love came effortlessly so, apparently, did romance. Funny, he thought, how he never realized that before. Relationships, like life, careers, and even parenting, required work, commitment and sometimes struggle, but romance? Romance came from the heart, and its only requirement was simple recognition. "You asked me a question," he said in a deep voice that pierced the quiet. "And I have an answer for you." With his free hand, he fished in his pocket for the tiny box he'd shoved there earlier and gently placed it in her lap.

"What's this?" she asked in a voice filled with anticipation as she sat up and faced him box in hand.

"It's my answer, and my question for you," he answered, feeling a twinge of nerves. "Open it." She opened the box with far steadier fingers than his and gasped at the sight of the three stone diamond ring.

"Tim, it's beautiful," she gasped breathlessly, looking from him to the ring and back again at him. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger, next to the gold wedding band she'd never removed.

"Will you be my wife… again?" he asked, barely trusting his voice not to choke up.

"I will, always and forever," she answered without hesitation. Smiling widely, she wrapped her arms around his neck before pressing her lips against his. "I love you. I always have," she said between kisses.

"I love you, too," he said, pulling back slightly. "I would give anything to take back ever hurting you," he said in an emotionally laden voice. "But, I don't regret all I've learned these past few months, or the chance to fall in love with you… again. And to actually recognize it this time," he added with a chuckle. "Do you like the ring? I never got you one the first time," he said guiltily, dropping his eyes.

"I do. I love it. It's absolutely beautiful and completely unexpected," she said with a grin, holding her hand out and admiring the three round brilliant-cut stones.

"I'm glad," he said, nodding with relief. "The three diamonds are supposed to represent past, present and future, I guess. Which we have, but I liked it because it reminded me of the three of us, which is really how we began our marriage," he said with a small smile.

"It's perfect," she said with a slight catch in her voice. "Thank you."

"Well, I'm not done yet," he said, still smiling. "I did a bit more shopping while I was in the jewelry store. I didn't think you'd object," he said as he fished again in his pocket. He held out her hand and dropped the found object into her palm. "Care to slip it on?" he asked, trying without success to keep his voice steady. Her eyes shimmered with tears when she looked up and met his gaze. "I figured what mattered was who put it on my finger, not who bought it," he said softly.

"It's a wedding band," she said, or asked, he really wasn't certain, only that her voice held a wonder that was heartbreaking in its sincerity.

"Yeah," he said, nodding and holding his unadorned left hand out to her. "No matter how bad things were, you never took yours off. As long as it was there, then maybe, we still had a chance. That meant a lot to me," he said as she slipped the shiny gold band onto his finger. "What it stands for, I get that now. If I didn't before, I do now."

"Thank you," she said, clasping his hand tightly. "This is the most meaningful thing you've ever done."

"You deserve it," he said against her lips, and kissing her lightly. "When I was picking up the rings, I realized we never had much of a wedding and I wondered if you wanted to do ours over."

"Renew our vows? You would do that?" she asked, clearly surprised at the suggestion.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "If you wanted to, that would be okay."

"That's really sweet of you, and it's a lovely idea, but you know, it's not really about the wedding, only the promises we made to each other. Ours got a little banged up, but never broken. I think we'll stick with those, they've gotten us this far, if that's okay with you." He nodded. "Besides, we'll have Ali's wedding to plan someday. Think how much fun that will be," she said with widened eyes brimming with excitement.

"Ali's wedding?" he said, pulling back slightly and blinking rapidly. "I don't think so, she's just a baby," he said quirking a brow in disbelief. "No weddings if I can help it," he said with a shudder.

"Good luck with that," she laughed and patted his back sympathetically. "Don't worry, you've got some time to prepare for it," she added. "But right now? You're all mine," she said with a sly smirk on her lips and lust filling her clear green eyes. "I may not want another wedding, but there is something I do want," she said rising off the glider and pulling him to his feet in the process.

"And what would that be?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper against her lips.

"A honeymoon," she sighed. "I want a honeymoon and I know the perfect spot," she answered in a sultry, southern drawl. "Think you can give me that?" she asked, her warm breath against his lips causing shivers to run up and down his back.

"Oh yeah," he groaned before crushing his body against hers and claiming her lips in a kiss that sent currents of electricity throughout his body. He'd seduced her, adored her, and made love to her more times than he could count, but nothing had ever felt quite like this moment did. Despite vowing he'd wait forever for her if that's what it took, he was damn glad he wasn't going to have to wait longer than it took to carry her down to the bedroom, because anything longer than that would've done him in. Scooping her into his arms with ease, he silenced her giggles with a searing kiss. "We're gonna be okay now, aren't we?" he asked even though he already knew the answer with a certainty that still took him by surprise.

"Yeah, Tim, we are," she smiled. "We really are."

The end


End file.
